Hellsing vs Marvel Zombies: Death Becomes Them
by Miranda Sparks
Summary: The heroes of the Marvel Universe have been infected with a virus, turning them into flesh eating zombies! As the world is consumed only Alucard and the Hellsing Organisation have a hope of putting a stop to them.
1. Prelude

**Hellsing vs Marvel Zombies:  
Death Becomes Them**

**by Jack Midnight**

* * *

_Marvel Zombies and all related characters copyright of Marvel Comics. Hellsing and all related characters copyright and property of Kohta Hirano._

* * *

**PRELUDE**

From the vortex it came, hailing bolts of purple lightning in it's wake: a creature of pure greed, of filth, of destruction. Noone would be spared. The centuries of wars, famine, oppression and struggle that mankind had faced instantly became meaningless when this single, indiscriminate foe came and laid waste to all in it's path.

We once had heroes. They were proud and mighty avengers who protected us from a harsh and unyielding universe. We worshiped them like gods in our own way. Perhaps this is punishment from the true gods for mislaying our faith because it was those heroes who we believed in that became the world's greatest plight.

At ground zero they all converged on the carrion's host, fighting valiantly to save us all but the plague would only consume them: every single one. Colonel America, Iron Man, Thor, Giant Man, the Wasp, Power Man, Iron Fist, Spider-Man, one by one became infected. They began plucking innocent people from the street, some even tearing their meals apart in mid-air and letting blood rain down in pools.

One man fled in terror only to be crippled when Colonel America's shield shattered his spine with precision aim. He was helpless as the one all-American hero dived down and ripped his flesh apart with his rotted teeth. Meanwhile Giant Man scooped panicked groups up by the handful and forced them into his mouth as furiously as he could. The Wasp jumped from host to host taking sharp nips from each: her way of making the food last.

The heroes hit with such ferocity that New York was wiped clean in a matter of hours. It was a small blessing that the human race would be exterminated rather than continue eternally hungering for flesh, to have the compassion of their souls extinguished and for their fellow man to become no more than food.

New York was only the beginning. There was still an entire planet left on their platter.

* * *

Nick Fury leaned forward in the leather armchair. He held the thick towel close to him trying not to drip salt water onto the expensive Persian rug, not that it mattered now.

"It was a bloodbath. Men, women and children, nobody was safe. Not even the dogs. Hell, I saw Black Widow half-swallow a poodle and bite it off at the torso. Weird thing to notice in light of it all, I know.

"In the minutes it took to organise an evacuation and to open up the emergency bunkers planted under the city the population had already been decimated. Even those we could get inside weren't safe for long. They were trapped like rats. The heroes... those monsters... tore the bunker doors open like lids off of a tin can.

"It didn't take them long to storm the helicarrier. I might have taken some comfort, some pity in the thought that whatever it was that had afflicted them overcame them with hunger, but they knew exactly what they were doing. Their attack on SHIELD was precise and coordinated and they didn't stop until every morsel of human flesh had been consumed.

"They were more than animals. They were monsters. They joked as they disabled our weapons and argued when it came to the last few to be... eaten.

"I was fortunate enough to escape. It took a sub-orbital rocket and the lives of another dozen SHIELD agents to do it, but here I am. Next thing I know I'm being fished out of the ocean by your majesty's navy. In minutes I was talking to the round table and now I've been referred here... to you..."

The blond-haired young woman took another deep inhalation of the end of her cigarette holder, then leaned back and pressed her fingers together in consideration. She wore a fine Edwardian suit usually tailored for a male, large round glasses and a serious expression. Despite her age she was clearly a woman of standing.

"That is quite a remarkable tale of survival," she remarked to the former SHIELD director sitting across her desk.

"They've taken the United States. It's only a matter of time before they spread out of Canada and South America to the other continents. We're going to need all the help we can get if we have any hope of stopping them, Sir Integra."

Integra Wingates Hellsing huffed and let loose a slight, curt smile. "You'd best leave this to us, Colonel Fury. Monsters are somewhat of a specialty of ours."

* * *

**TO BE CONTINUED...**


	2. The Cast

**THE CAST**

* * *

**M A R V E L Z O M B I E S**

**Colonel America – **In World War II private Steve Rogers volunteered himself as a subject for the super-soldier serum which transformed him into the nation's fighting hero: Captain America. Frozen in an icecap for decades he awoke to then form the superteam known as the Avengers and after achieving new rank was even briefly elected as president of the United States.

**Iron Man – **Captured behind enemy lines billionaire heir and weapons manufacturer Tony Stark was forced into the production of a supersuit for terrorist use, though he himself used it to free himself and his compatriots. After several redesigns Stark continued to use his power to fight the forces of evil as Iron Man.

**Thor – **From the halls of Valhalla, Thor, son of the Asgaardian king, Odin, was sent to Midgard (Earth) to combat the forces of his evil step-brother, Loki. After joining with Iron Man, the Hulk and the Pyms, Thor became one of the founding members of Earth's mightiest superhero team, the Avengers.

**Wolverine – **A test subject from the fabled 'Weapon X' program, Logan managed to escape and sought a new life as well as his old one. Gifted with a mutant healing factor he was also afflicted with an adamantium skeleton and retractable claws by Weapon X. After much wandering and a stint with Alpha Flight he had made a new home and a new family amongst the X-Men.

**Spider-Man – **One bite from a radio-active changed Peter Parker's life forever. He was granted with new powers and abilities and used them to make a profit as the costumed Spider-Man. It wasn't until the tragic death of his Uncle Ben that he became a true hero, learning that with great power comes great responsibility.

**They, among many others, were transformed when a monstrous creature came through an interdimensional vortex, transforming them all into the hungering, flesh-eating MARVEL ZOMBIES.**

* * *

**H E L L S I N G**

**Alucard –** Once known as Vlad the Impaler, Vlad Dracula drank the blood of his enemies at the time of his execution, transforming him into an unholy immortal creature. Centuries later he was defeated by Abraham Van Hellsing and was sworn into the servitude of him and his children, the latest of which is Sir Integra Wingates Hellsing. Serving as an agent of the Hellsing Organisation, Alucard exterminates rogue undead, creatures who fill him with disgust.

**Sir Integra Wingates Hellsing - **Leader of the Hellsing organization and Alucard's "Master". She inherited the Hellsing Organisation at the age of 13 when her father died. Although she often seems strict and domineering, she is respected and admired, even among her sworn enemies.

**Seras Victoria –** Once an ordinary policewoman caught in a situation outside of her control, her virginity allowed for Seras to be transformed by Alucard into Nosferatu. She serves under Alucard, her 'master', and in turn as a soldier of the Hellsing Organisation.**  
**

* * *

**O T H E R**

**Colonel Nick Fury –** A former World War II hero turned super-spy, Colonel Nick Fury is the director of SHIELD, an intermediary intelligence organisation between the United States and the UN. Until recently he also maintained close ties with numerous members of the superhuman community.

**Paladin Alexander Anderson –** A warrior paladin under orders from Vatican chapter XIII, Iscariot, Alexander Anderson is the church's chief weapon against the forces of the undead. As well as his great zeal Anderson also possesses a number of holy weapons and regenerative abilities of unknown origin.

**Father Enrico Maxwell – **The leader of Vatican chapter XIII, Iscariot, Father Maxwell is a bitter rival with Hellsing director Sir Integra Wingates Hellsing. As fanatical as he is devout there is often dissension amongst his ranks when his blind faith overtakes his own sense of reason.


	3. Part 1

**PART ONE**

* * *

**Montreal, Quebec, Canada**

The meat was tough and sinewy, but that didn't make it any less delicious. Puck was heavy for such a little guy, but Hawkeye didn't mind. He'd picked him from out of the entire Alpha Flight bunch not for any practical reason, just for the novelty. Some of the Avengers and the X-Men had made light of Puck's size and now Hawkeye could brag that he got to eat him. The term he'd dubbed him in battle was 'snack size'.

Blood stained the snow and the sidewalks, the windows, the cars, everything. Only minutes ago perfect destruction reigned and the Avengers, their allies and the Canadian team Alpha Flight were there to put an end to it. The only problem was that the Avengers started the carnage in the first place. No longer were they heroes, icons, warriors of freedom: now they were death incarnate, their only interest to submit to the inhuman hunger that had overtaken them.

Colonel America licked the blood from his fingers after taking another healthy bite of Guardian's disembodied arm. It was all that was left of Alpha Flight except for the head of Northstar which Thor was occupied with, picking all of the meat clean from his bones.

"This is strangely satisfying," Colonel America mused. "That'll show those smug Canadian bastards to lock horns with the Avengers."

"You didn't do it alone, bub." Wolverine was licking the ground where a pool of blood had formed. Feeding didn't stave off their hunger for long. It would only be a few hours before reason and logic were taken over again with animalistic bloodlust.

Spider-Man sat on the roof of a nearby car, the mouth around his mask torn open for easier consumption. His rotting face donned a grim expression. "Is anybody else disturbed by how easy this all is?"

"Not really. Alpha Flight are... were... a bunch of pussies if you ask me." Bruce Banner sat on the ground and rubbed his satisfied belly. He was naked and the weather was freezing, though it didn't seem to matter now that he was dead. All he could feel was hunger.

Thor chuckled as he cracked open Northstar's skull to feed on his brain. "Yay, all Canadians art pussies! Ha ha!"

"That's not what I meant," Spidey sighed. "I mean, we're attacking innocent people! Not just that, but we're doing things to them which, not weeks ago, we would have been horrified by! I know what the hunger is like, but, how can we all have come to terms with that so quickly?"

"Can it, Parker, we've heard it before." Iron Man landed before them, his red and gold suit of armour covered in dried blood, now turning black. He lifted his visor to reveal his true nature underneath: a once great man now undead. "I've just heard the news. The Russians have launched nuclear weapons on Washington, Baltimore and Los Angeles in an attempt to get to us."

"They're taking pot shots," Colonel America remarked. "They might have hit us if they fired eight hours ago."

"They _did_ hit us, Colonel," Iron Man continued seriously. "The strike managed to take out the Power Pack, the Slingers and those Pride kids from LA. If we don't respond quickly then we could be next."

Luke Cage scoffed. Half of the flesh had fallen off his jaw, exposing bone. "So what? It's more meat for us. Besides, we don't even know if we can be killed."

Iron Man turned and called to Wolverine, still licking up blood. "Logan! How are those bullet wounds in your back coming along?"

"What bullet wounds?"

"Five of them! Three on the left, one on the right, one in the kidney!"

Logan twisted his head back to inspect the damage. "Well what d'ya know? These aren't going anywhere! Healing factor stopped working the second we turned!"

His point made Iron Man glared at Cage. "Now that we're zombies we no longer have an immune system. Any damage we take, we keep. Personally I like walking around with my corpse unmolested. What I wouldn't like is to one day have to adapt to unlife without a torso. Do I make myself clear?"

"Maybe we should just let them do it," Spider-Man moped.

The group looked blankly, silently to the wall-crawler. Maybe his words had an impact, but most likely they didn't. Iron Man pointed to him. "Somebody shut him up."

"Woah. Hey, I didn't mean to..."

Sneaking up from behind Wolverine placed his fist to Spidey's throat. A split second later his adamantium claws shot out, puncturing necrotic flesh. Another brief movement tore a large chunk from his throat, giving air somewhere else to vent.

"Thanks, Logan," Spidey chided at a much lower volume. "You have any idea how hard this is going to make it to swallow?"

"Back to business," said Iron Man. "This isn't like the movies. The world isn't going to stand by and let us overrun the planet city by city. They're going to strike back, most likely with the hardest weapons they can from as far away as they can. We need to make the first strike."

Giant-Man raised a curious eyebrow. "If we leave now we'll just be giving whoever's left a chance to regroup. We took them by surprise before. Next time they know who they'll be fighting."

"Settle down, Yellowjacket," said Wolverine stepping up to the circle. "The way I see it they ain't got much left to regroup. So a few survivors get together, make do in the name of survival... we've destroyed most of their resources. This just makes 'em ripe for the picking when we return."

Reluctantly, he agreed. "So what's the plan?"

"Our greatest threats lie in Europe and Russia. I've taken the liberty of assembling a two-pronged strike, eliminating both threats simultaneously. While we attack Europe the X-Men, Thunderbolts and Young Avengers strike Russia. The worst they'll have to worry about is the Titanium Man and Crimson Dynamo."

"What about the Fantastic Four?" called the Wasp from the back. "Or the New Warriors?"

Iron Man sighed heavily. "The New Warriors along with the _Great Lakes_ Avengers have opted to be... uncooperative. Something about eating Squirrel Girl, I don't know. As for Reed and his crew, they seem to have gone MIA. This is all we have to work with."

"Then let's do it!" Hawkeye cheered. "I bet Germans taste like sausages and the English taste like blood pudding!"

"And the Turkish taste like thanksgiving dinner," Spider-Man groaned through the hole in his throat.

"That little speech impediment Wolverine gave you really screws up your delivery, huh."

"Tell me about it."

The zombies departed heading for the area the Avengers Quinjet was landed less than a mile away. After refueling it would only be hours before they reached the other continents and began their tirade of widespread panic anew.

Minutes later something stirred amongst the dead. A young white-haired woman clad in a blue and white Alpha Flight uniform stumbled about. A large meaty bite had been taken from her arm and her head rolled about independently of her body as if it had been broken. Looking about she saw the bodies of her teammates and she began to weep. A moment later she spotted the headless body of her brother, Northstar and she held it, wailing to the heavens.

What had happened, she wondered. The last she remembered was the Avengers: something had happened to them and then they were fighting and killing each other. Though that didn't matter. For some reason at that moment she was overwhelmingly hungry...

* * *

**Headquarters of the Hellsing Organisation  
London, England**

"You're going to _what_?"

Nick Fury slammed his fists on the desk. He'd spent the better part of the last few days talking to world leaders and devising plans knowing that every moment meant another life lost. Now he'd been delivered devastating news that would turn his campaign into a guaranteed suicide run.

Sir Integra Wingates Hellsing seemed unphased by this. Of course not. She was expecting for him to overreact. Such a man could not understand her position. "You will keep in mind, Colonel Fury, that the Hellsing Organisation is formed from the order of Protestant Knights. We are a religious organisation devoted to combating the supernatural and as such must adhere to some very strict laws."

"You are in charge of this war's most effective resource and refuse to do anything while the extinction of the human race unfolds right before your feet! Every second you wait holds you accountable for how many more dead!"

"If the battlefield were still the United States I would have immediately sent my top agent to the task," she informed him, her voice slightly raised. "However, since the enemy is crossing Europe there are borders and treaties to consider, even in times as desperate as these."

"And what would those be?" Fury hissed, still not understanding the significance of her words.

"Many of those nations fall under the jurisdiction of the Roman Catholic Church. The Hellsing Organisation is forbidden to cross into their territory lest we erupt into yet another crusade. The world should consider itself fortunate for every day we manage to maintain the peace."

The Colonel's grim face contorted further with frustration. "So you're going to sit back and let this all happen in the name of some petty rivalry over whose God has the biggest balls. Am I getting this right?"

Sir Hellsing fumed at such blasphemy and could no longer contain herself. "The people of those nations and their leaders damned themselves by falling victim to pagan Vatican ritual and Papalian rhetoric! I have no doubt that each and every one of them marched into the gates of Hell long ago and now curse themselves for spitting upon salvation when it was offered to them! Their choice has been made and so has mine!"

The long pause between the two directors lingered painfully. Finally Fury was the first to speak. "So that's really what you believe, is it?"

"Yes, it is," she said. "What do you believe in, Colonel Fury?"

Nick took a cigar from his pocket and bit off the end. Placing the other to his mouth he lit it. He turned to leave, giving Sir Integra a last pitying glare. "I believe in survival."

* * *

Seras Victoria stood out amongst the ranks of the Hellsing Organisation. Short, blonde, petite, she didn't quite seem to fit the bill when it came to what was expected of your average soldier in a covert holy war. Some of the blokes even reckoned that she was only recruited for her ample chest, that as devout as someone such as director Hellsing seemed she might have been batting for the other team.

Those who knew her however knew different. Her ability completely defied her appearance. In battle she was faster, more alert and then times the asset of any single soldier. Though she was once an ordinary police officer she was made Nosferatu and then served under Alucard as another 'freak-hunting freak'.

Truth be told it was a difficult unlife. She didn't like the sight of blood, which made feeding for her all the more difficult. Yet the hunger began to take her. Sooner or later she would succumb to it and become a proper nightstalker. Such was the way of things.

Seras strolled across the yard. The moon was full and the men were on high alert. Her radio was buckled to her jacket: she had to be ready for the attack when it came. She was told time and time again the role she was to play would be crucial in the final outcome.

There were two men leaning on the yard wall: men in costumes, both dark blue. One was wearing a stylised skull mask while the other had a symbol of a target on his forehead. They were both Americans, mercenaries, contract killers, working for the SHIELD director, Nick Fury. Having met him once before Seras got the feeling that he wouldn't have hired these men under any other circumstances.

Bullseye and Taskmaster glanced over. She quickly averted her gaze and promptly made her way to the building.

The hallway descended deep underground. The walls, floors and ceiling were made of cold, black brick. She followed them, for at the end preceding her master's coffin was her own chambers where she could feed, maybe rest, until the conflict began. Even an unholy creature such as herself prayed: prayed that they wouldn't come, or at least to come at night when her Master could see to them.

The truth was she had less faith in God than she did in Alucard. Never before had she met such a powerful force and witnessed it in action firsthand for herself. She wondered if there were others out there to match his power, but she doubted it. After all he was the one true master of the walking undead.

"So, which way's the bathroom around here?" Seras jumped at the sound of the voice behind her. She turned to face a man covered in head to toe in red and black armed with guns, knives, swords, grenades: everything you'd need to start a one man war. He watched her with lustful eyes. "So, ever done it in the bottom of a suitcase?"

"E-excuse me?"

"Wait, you're that vampire chick, right?" From under the mask he smiled. She could barely tell. "So, ever done it in the bottom of a coffin?"

"No, I-!"

"Let me guess. You're a virgin," he continued coyly. "Must be a tough call. Get some dicking and die or live forever a virgin. It's a way of life, I know. Me, I'd shoot myself! Then again that probably doesn't do much... for either of us."

"I don't know. It'd do a lot for me right now." Seras frowned. "Who are you, anyway?"

"The name's Deadpool, 'the Merc with the Mouth'," he explained. "Sorry I had to embarrass you like that, but I thought I'd try and give the readers a bit of slash action. They seem to freakin' love that stuff!"

"That's only for same sex characters."

"Seriously?"

"I don't know," she said writhing under Deadpool's arms as he attempted to pin her to the wall. "What are you even talking about?"

"Police girl." They were both halted by Alucard's deep voice. It contained power and authority. Neither had heard him exit his chamber yet there he was: standing in his long, red overcoat and hat with his black hair draping and curling from the side.

"Er, how you doing, red?" Deadpool asked, a little uncertain as to what to say.

Alucard simply ignored him and began to walk. "I'm quite taken by the thought of an evening stroll. I wish to sample the odor of the oncoming carnage."

"Yes, master." Seras darted after him paying little attention to the mercenary left behind her.

Deadpool shrugged. "Probably not my type. Probably a cold-hearted lover. I mean, after all, she is already dead."

* * *

**Guaranda, Ecuador**

The people prayed at the sight of evil before them. They prayed that the Lord would come down from Heaven personally and take these foul abominations away. They thanked him for sending an avenger and prayed further for the souls of all who'd been lost. The entire city was assembled outside and in. Never before had there been such a display of faith, even from a great number of disbelievers.

"Keep your noise down! Your prayers are worthless!" Patriot cried out. "You're all nothing more than food to us!"

"Ye'll be keeping yer mouth shut if ye be wantin' any chance'a salvation," said a large Scotsman with a heavy boot to the Young Avenger's forehead. "Be thankful I be lettin' ye have anything at ull!"

"I can hardly understand a word he's saying," declared Songbird.

"I'm... just... so... hungry," Wiccan whined.

Alexander Anderson sighed. There was just no reasoning with them. Even without stomachs they couldn't think with their brains. He marched up and down with each of the heads of the undead X-Men, Thunderbolts and Young Avengers lined up before him. Despite all logic they lived on, but at least they could cause no harm.

Cyclops rattled his jaw in an attempt to move off of the podium he'd been placed. His eyes had been scooped clean out of his head leaving him less of a threat than ever. "Point me to him, Jean. I'm going to bite his ankles off!"

"He's too far away, Scott. Wait until he's closer, then we can both feast on him."

Paladin Anderson raised his arms to silence the crowd. He was a very tall man: a feature which seemed to defy his humility which in turn defied his warrior nature. He wore glasses and had short, blond hair giving him the appearance of a learned man also. He'd have to be to have such a high rank within the church.

"Brothars 'n sistars," he proclaimed. "Damn not the heroes they once wure, but yay, damn the fowul demon creatures that hath overcoom them! May their sins be forgiven and they themselves be damned if they no' be baptised in the holy spirut!"

"What the hell is he talking about?" Moonstone tried to choke out without the aid of her larynx.

"Yeblan! Zjelob!" Colossus cursed as the blade swung down. His head was cut clean in two and his divided brain slipped out of his halved skull. Finally he was dead... and he was only the first in the line.

"Ye're next, ye abomination," he said down to the zombified Hulkling with hate-filled eyes. Whenever the dead stared back to Alexander Anderson they stared in fear. It was a power the warrior paladin could get drunk on.

* * *

**TO BE CONTINUED...**


	4. Part 2

**PART TWO**

* * *

**The Headquarters of the Hellsing Organisation  
London, England**

"What the hell are you doing here?"

Bullseye smiled down the barrel of the gun pointed at his face. To say the least he was pleased that someone else of interest managed to get out of the country alive. "It's good to see you too, Frank."

"What about me, huh? You going to point a gun at my head?" asked Deadpool, probably seeking attention.

"Shut up." Frank Castle was by no means a patient man, nor a tolerant one. He was a born soldier: it was what he did best. In his mind the war started again when his family were brutally murdered at the hands of gangsters. Since then he's been the Punisher and now he was staring through his sights at a wanted multiple murderer. "What are you doing here?"

"Working for me," said Nick Fury from the doorway. He looked disapprovingly with his one good eye on Castle and held a cigar in his toothy scowl. "Put down the gun, Frank. It's not polite to shoot your troops."

The Punisher reluctantly did as he was told. "I was hoping that wasn't the case, Fury. I was hoping we were going to do this properly, with soldiers, not assassins."

"Assassins are better than soldiers," giggled Deadpool. "Assassins do it from behind."

"Shut up!" came Fury and Castle's collective reply.

The Colonel ducked his head heavily. For the last twelve hours he'd been stuck on his ass pulling together whatever forces he could from out of thin air. Frank Castle was the last of them. "They're all we've got, Frank. We're all there are to stop a zombie army capable of destroying the world. Right now good and evil don't nearly weigh up to whatever strength we can gather."

"He's a murderer," Castle said, still not drawing his gaze from Bullseye's smug, indifferent grin.

"So are you," Fury added.

"That's different."

"He saved lives." Castle looked to Fury curiously. "After fighting his way out of Hell's Kitchen and taking out Daredevil in the process Bullseye here managed to make his way to New Jersey where he lead twenty people to a private airstrip. He then managed to successfully get them all the way to Guam."

Castle turned back to Bullseye in disbelief. "I don't buy it."

"The guy was a pilot," he explained casually. "I said I'd kill his family if he didn't fly but he refused. We ended up bringing them along... and seventeen of their friends. After that I was recruited by old one-eye over here."

Finally Castle relented. He trusted Fury and knew he wouldn't have done this under any other circumstances. After all was said and done and mankind was saved from extinction Bullseye would be a dead man: one way or the other.

"Now that's over with I'd like to introduce you to the rest of your team," Fury continued. Into the room stepped two mutants: one a large man with grey hair and a glowing eye, the other a petite raven-haired woman with pale skin and black patches around her eyes. Both carried enough enough firepower to arm a small alien armada.

"Son of a gun," Deadpool gasped with faux excitement. "You should leave the missus alone, Cable. I bet it's getting hard to explain the black eyes. By the way, where's the rest of X-Force?"

Domino lunged forward to take a shot at the merc with a mouth but Cable held her back. He just smirked and stared into his empty eyes. "Wade Wilson. I heard you were here. How's the rest of the family?"

"Peachy," he muttered. "So what does your little history cubey thing say about us surviving this thing? How do we win?"

Cable's expression turned grimmer than usual. "It doesn't. This was never supposed to happen. Because of that we lost X-Force. Domino and I were the only survivors."

"So much for a strategic advantage," Deadpool mumbled under his breath.

"Enough!" All fell silent and sat patiently for Fury to speak. "Here's the deal. Earth's mightiest heroes are dead and that may very well spell extinction for all life on the planet. Something has reanimated their corpses and they in turn now hunger for living human flesh. We are all that's left to stop them. SHIELD has granted us access wherever we need to go but haven't promised us any back-up. Gentlemen, Domino... we're it."

Taskmaster raised his hand from his silent, unnoticed corner. "So what's the plan?"

"We take them apart," Fury explained. "We isolate them one by one and destroy the heads as quickly as we can. Too much time and it will all have been for nothing. It's no easy task but it needs to be done and now."

"As in, this very second?" Deadpool asked.

Fury nodded. It was the start of what was going to be a very long day.

* * *

Sir Integra watched from on high as the chopper blades turned. Upon the recommendation of the Prime Minister SHIELD had been stationed in her courtyard since the first attack. Both he and Fury should have known better: she was for the time being forbidden to act. Despite the urgings of the round table she had a duty to keep, first to her God and then to her country: of this there was no question. If it cost the lives of countless heathens then so bit it: she would not be compromised.

Through her office window she watched as Colonel Fury ushered his mercenary squad into the helicopter. He looked up to her with his one good eye then shook his head in disappointment. Integra scoffed. He disappointment was misplaced. When once he turned to costumed heroes he now expected for Hellsing to fill the gap. Not bloody likely, she thought.

Walter C. Dornez, the Hellsing family butler and a man of high dignity, stood humbly at her door. "Sir Integra, forgive the interruption."

"Not at all, Walter," she said with a polite smile.

He continued inside and briefly caught sight of the SHIELD helicopter flying into the distance. "Am I to take it that our guests have parted company?"

"They have indeed."

There was a very subtle hint of distress on her voice which only very few would be able to detect. Having served the family since before her birth Walter was one of them. "Is everything alright, sir?"

Integra inhaled and released. It was time for another cigarette. "Simply mourning the death of a good man. A highly misguided man, but a good man all the same. What do you have for me, Walter?"

"Sir Alistair Lethbridge-Stewart called," he informed her. "There is to be an emergency meeting of the round table immediately in regards to the oncoming... erm... peril."

"Tell them that the Hellsing Organisation have everything well in hand. After all, this is what we were made for."

Walter laughed agreeably. "Indeed, sir, but I am afraid that the faith your compatriots have placed in you does not extend quite that far. Perhaps it would be in your interest to set their minds at ease."

"Of course." At once Integra grabbed her coat and proceeded down the hall. She would have to explain to the old men how she planned to stop a war when in truth she was anxious for the war to begin...

* * *

**The Atlantic Ocean  
Off the coast of Spain**

"Remind me again, why Spain?" Wolverine grunted.

Colonel America gripped the Quinjet's controls shakily. The hunger was beginning to creep up on him, as it was them all. He had to fight to keep rational. "We need to draw their forces out," he explained. "We feed on the little fish and then go after the bigger ones with clear heads. If we attacked now they'd pick us off like rabid dogs."

"Hulk not care about plan! Hulk want food!" Banner bellowed. No longer fueled by rage the zombies watched as the undead scientist slowly began to change.

Iron Man quickly jerked around from his console. "Somebody keep him together! We can't afford a transformation right now!"

Reaching into his neck Spider-Man drew a piece of human meat that had become caught on the way down. He offered it to Banner and spoke gently. "Nibble on this. It was all I could find."

Banner took it and swallowed it down quickly. For the moment the Hulk had subsided within him.

Wolverine snorted and grinned a crooked smile with rotten teeth. "You keep feeding him he'll just keep comin' back. Next time he might even tear your stomach open to get it."

Spider-Man looked up to him in shock. "Damn it, Logan! Don't give him any ideas!"

Bruce shot Spidey a deadly smile. Even with their new undead ability he knew he didn't stand a snowball's chance against the Hulk, not in the long run. He'd hate to think what would happen if Bruce took up the offer.

"All of you, quiet!" Iron Man snapped. He flipped his visor closed and pointed to Hawkeye and Thor. "You two are with me. We'll be leading the attack."

"No way," protested Luke Cage. "You don't get first dibs. Those meatbag suckers are ours to eat, too!"

Iron Man stared into Cage's face as he pressed him into the wall. "Listen to me, 'Power Man'. Those 'meatbag suckers' below have ground to air missiles and we need the Quinjet intact if we're going to see this mission through. Thor and I can both fly while Hawkeye has the most effective range. This is how we do it in the Avengers, unless you have a better plan."

"No, I don't."

"Clint, do you have your exploding arrows?" Iron Man didn't for a moment remove his glare from the other zombie.

Hawkeye smiled. "Never leave him without 'em."

"Good." The rear hatch opened letting in a violent gust of air. Iron Man reached around Hawkeye, holding him securely. "Avengers assemble, and move in for the kill!"

* * *

The bulkheads fell in a matter of minutes. Iron Man and Thor effortlessly evaded the missile swarm while Hawkeye took out the launchers and heavy artillery on the ground with the greatest of ease. They were heroes: they were born for battle. Then the feeding frenzy began.

Though they were virtually blanketed by heavy fire none of them seemed at all affected. They tore through the cavalry making sure that no man was left untouched. It wouldn't be enough to finish the victims off one at a time, they had to consume them en mass. Desperate soldiers lay bleeding, doomed, choking out as their body failed. It was such a waste of a life, even if their destiny was to be eaten it was distasteful to leave them only half-finished.

Once the Quinjet had landed safely the violence erupted anew with the zombies projecting their bodies as birds of prey swooping into the grass for their dinner. Nature was violent and cruel but these creatures were by no means natural: they had been reduced to things less than human, lower than cold, hungry cavemen. All they knew was an insatiable need and never again could they know anything more.

Father Maxwell smiled from his rooftop vigil, his uneven eyes blazing as he smiled at the prospect of what was yet to come.

"_He_ has smited the United States for it's godless ways," he began. "A 'nation under God' that would separate him from government, from schools, from their daily lives: a nation based on blasphemy and lies about it's faith, that would worship mortal men in place of the Almighty! They are a nation that would discard Mother Mary as no more than the whore of Babylon..."

"And in true American fashion they would damn the world with them," said Heinkel, a young short-haired German girl dressed as a priest, though you could hardly tell her true sex to look at her.

Yumiko, a Japanese nun, cried as she watched. "We should pray for them. God will have mercy on their souls. Whatever has overcome them... they are not the men they were, only the demons that have taken them."

"Snap out of it!" Heinkel barked. "Go back inside, Yumiko! We need for Yumie to come out!"

"Patience, Heinkel," Father Maxwell urged him. "Yumie will come out when the time is right. For now we will sit back as we have been asked to do and await our opportunity to cleanse the Earth of these devils."

* * *

The zombies had made short work of the Spanish army: their wall of force quickly became a wall of bones trickling ponds of blood. It was only a light snack but the night was still young. There was bound to be a lot more yet to come.

"Still hungry," groaned the Hulk.

"Me too," Hawkeye complained. "Where do you suppose they herded all of the survivors to?"

Wolverine sniffed the air. His healing factor was out but he still had his animal senses. "There's something else comin'. I can smell 'em. We got more food coming right for us."

Iron Man rocketed upwards and scanned the area for heat signatures, radio frequencies, anything to indicate a mobilised group approaching. "I'm not picking up anything. There's nobody out there, not for miles."

"Then we keep moving until we catch up," Colonel America ordered.

Wolverine stood his ground and unsheathed his adamantium claws. "I'm tellin' ya, there's someone else out here with us. A whole lot of 'em!"

"And I'm telling you that they're not there!" Iron Man growled.

"Machines can be easily fooled, 'Iron Man'," came a voice echoing from the darkness. It was all around them, projected electronically through hundreds of hidden speakers. "You think you are better than dogs. Ha! I always knew the day would come when you would march against God's holy army, but like the others you will fall. _All_ false idols are destined to one day fall!"

"Great, another religious nutjob," Spider-Man croaked.

"Art thou a mad cultist? What manner of trickery doest thou attempt?" Thor bellowed.

"This is no trick," the voice continued. Father Maxwell became illuminated on the podium above them and stared down with a smug grin. "I am a representative of the Lord Almighty here on Earth. We were created in holy God's image and as such need not cower and hide in the darkness like wild beasts. With the power of faith on our side we have nothing to fear... not even you."

The zombies hissed hungrily, their eyes clouded with bloodlust. Colonel America turned away if just to laugh for a brief moment. "I get it. You don't fear death. So what? You're going to offer yourself to us?"

"Suicidal tendencies line only the path to Hell. One day I am going to Heaven. I have paid my way in faith, blood and deed," Father Maxwell informed them simply. "No, I do not plan to die today. Instead I plan only to kill you all."

"You and what army?" Colonel America called through the collective laughter of their zombie troupe.

With a series of heavy clicks the floodlights activate in sequence. Scattered across the rooftops were warriors numbered in the thousands garbed from head to toe in white cloth and decorated in symbols paying homage to their God. Each held in their right hand a sword and a shield in the left. Each also carried large artillery weapons, spears, grenades and other weapons with which men would drive back demons with in ancient times.

"Cultists indeed," remarked Maxwell maliciously. "Prepare your march back to Hell, demons, and when you see Lucifer tell him that it was Chapter XIII, Iscariot who sent you!"

* * *

**Meeting of the Knights of the Round Table  
An undisclosed location**

"Sir Hellsing, do you honestly expect for us to believe that this situation doesn't warrant our concern?"

Integra leaned back in her chair and patiently smoked her cigarette. It was the only thing that allowed for her to stomach the same old speeches fed to her over and over again by these old men. It didn't matter to her they were assigned by the Queen to protect their sovereign nation. Each one of them seemed to cling onto old ideas of the Empire, that there were no monsters, merely men who acted monstrously. It was for that reason that none of them put any stock in the Hellsing Organisation.

"We've seen this _freak_ of yours and while he can effectively take down these _ghouls_ you constantly seem to encounter I doubt that he or anyone else in your little cabal have ever faced _anything_ of this magnitude," another continued.

"Frankly, gentlemen, neither have you," she quipped back prudently. "The Hellsing Organisation is exclusively devoted to threats of a supernatural nature, so we alone are the most qualified to stop these Avenger zombies. It would be wise of you to stay out of our way."

"I hardly think so," said Sir Lethbridge-Stewart calmly. "I believe it would be wise of you, Sir Hellsing, not to assume so quickly that any of us are ill-equipped to deal with the paranormal."

"I wouldn't dare," she explained. "However these creatures are far more than mere threats to national security. They are plague carriers spreading a sickness that originated from the pits of Hell itself."

"Regardless of the fact these monsters were the Avengers," Sir Tristan continued on behalf of the table. "As such we believe that our best hope in disposing of them would best be placed in our own superhero team, Excalibur, instead of the hands of two freaks and the small militia that make up your 'organisation'."

"Excalibur," she seethed. "Gentleman, what should happen if your precious Captain Britain and his subordinates too become infected? You're only providing them with further soldiers."

"Captain Britain and Excalibur are professionals," he informed her. "I'm afraid I've already approached both the Queen and the Prime Minister on the matter and we're in agreement, Integra. Hellsing will be our backup."

Integra wanted to scream. She wanted to leap across the table and take a sword to the bastard's throat, but she contained herself: it wouldn't be becoming of a proper English lady. He'd be dead soon enough, she told herself. The Queen and the Prime Minister had practically signed all of their death warrants.

"I pray that you all make it to Heaven, gentlemen," she said as she left. "You'll be there very soon."

* * *

**The Spanish Coast**

Father Maxwell watched with sycophantic delight. He watched as the Vatican army pressed forward in a savage collective, an unbreakable wall enforced with divine might. Those at the front were merely a barrier: their lives were forfeit and they knew it, though they each died gladly in service to their cause.

Colonel America, Spider-Man, Wolverine, the ground-based monsters were easily pinned down. They tried to lunge forward, to leap out of their reach but the army was assembled too tightly. Perhaps if they were still alive and rigamortis had not been slowly setting in they have been able to move faster but the blessed spears of the Holy Knights held them impaled on their seraded tips. In their desperation all they could do was pull themselves along the length of the staffs where they were met with furious swords.

Iron Man and Thor were more difficult. Arrows and bullets flew up to them, many containing explosive heads. The freaks burned, their own flesh becoming damaged beyond repair. They had to swoop down to feed, slaves to their own hunger and that was where the Knights had them. They'd come down and they were taken, the strength of a hundred men each boxing them in and leaving them to fight for their lives.

Giant Man wailed, struggling as he fought the ropes flying over him. One movement and a dozen men would fly into the air aimlessly. Some flew into his mouth as he caught them like popcorn. Eventually they pulled him down, breaking the bones in his rotten legs with explosives.

"Fight all you will, monsters," the Father laughed. "You are but a few, we number in the thousands!"

Heinkel and his partner stood at his side acting as personal guards. Yumiko, humble as she was before, had torn away her habit and unleashed her other personality, Yumie, a deadly assassin with a sharp katanna. Slowly they backed away with Father Maxwell in tow, still eying the carnage with much enthusiasm.

In the mad priest's eyes there was no way they could lose: he would cling to that believe until his very last breath. Heinkel however was becoming a little concerned. "Father, I think we should get out of here..."

"What are you talking about, Heinkel?" Yumie spat. "My sword hasn't tasted blood yet! We cannot possibly leave!"

Maxwell watched the battle, still lost in his own dillusion. "Listen to your friend, my child. We are God's representatives. We may lose number, but we are invincible! We shall never be defeated!"

Where Father Maxwell saw only God's soldiers making the push Heinkel saw the snapping of spears and ropes where the zombies summoned their superhuman strength to fight themselves free. She'd heard tales of the Avengers: many times they'd defeated foes larger than most people could comprehend. Never against the odds had they been defeated.

"Then I'm sorry, Father. I've lost the faith." Heinkel grabbed at Maxwell's arm to pull him to safely only to be slapped down to the ground in defiance.

"How _dare_ you defy my... God's will?" Maxwell dragged her up by the collar to smack her down again. "If you've lost your way then you can become food for the monsters!"

He picked up Heinkel again and was met with the tip of Yumie's katanna and a deep scowl. "Release him, Father. Please."

"You too, Yumie?" Maxwell chuckled to himself. He'd surrounded himself with heathens. Somehow he'd always known that Crossfire didn't share the faith. "Then you too are the food for the damned. You see, God will not let you harm me."

"Go fu-"

Yumie never had the chance to finish. Three long claws of adamantium entered between her ribs and pierced her lungs, then lifting her up so Wolverine could satisfy his hunger. He pulled on her long, black hair and sunk his blackened teeth into her neck as a torrent of blood washed over his face.

"Yumie!" Heinkel reached for her guns and charged to the zombie. Her partner was dying, she would avenge her. Her teaching taught her that revenge was a deadly sin, but nowhere in the Bible did it say that one should love and forgive the Devil or his agents. She charged, shots firing, unloading two bullets per step, but was stopped in her tracks when a hail of arrows pierced her, one through her neck. Suddenly it was very hard to breath.

Before she blacked out she saw the visage of Hawkeye standing above with his bow in hand, smiling with satisfaction. He leaned in closer. "Guess I'd better dig in while it's warm."

Father Maxwell backed away. He tripped and was crawling like a scared child. They seemed to revel in his fear as if it were an entree. For the first time in his life he questioned his faith. Had God lied to him? Why would he lie to him? No, it just wasn't possible. They were supposed to be invincible!

"I'll bet you're eating those words now, Father," Colonel America taunted on his approach. "I hear humble pie goes great with human flesh..."

He closed his eyes. The next thing he'd see would be the gates of Heaven with Jesus and Mary welcoming him home. He crawled into a ball and waited for the feast to begin. The truth was that he did not fear death, he just couldn't comprehend something having destroyed his faith made manifest.

Suddenly there was a sound, like paper beating on the wind followed by metal on soft flesh. Father Maxwell opened his eyes to see the zombies halted in their tracks and sent a step backward by countless knives flying into them, each formed of the blessed silver of melted crosses and attached to pages of holy parchment.. Maxwell smiled: he recognised those blades.

"Thank God," he cried. "Thank God!"

From on high came a tall, dark stranger: a priest in a long trenchcoat and the glint of God's hatred in his eye. For only a moment he turned back to see Father Maxwell cowering like a child. "God innae here, Father. No' t'day. Now g'won! Git!"

He didn't waste a moment. At Anderson's urging Father Maxwell scraped himself to his feet and ran towards a nearby helicopter. The zombies tried to follow but once more they were stopped by a hail of blades embedding themselves in the ground at their feet.

"Ah dinnae think ye'll be goin' any further," Anderson grinned happily. He bent forward, anxious for one of them, any of them, to make the first strike.

"And who the hell are you, chump?" Luke Cage growled.

"The last in a long line of penguins," Spider-Man choked laughing from the holes in his neck. "I say we skin him, eat him and use the rest as a tuxedo."

"There be no point in me introducin' mahsel'," Anderson continued. "I'm a holy weapon of God, an' ah haven' yet been defeated by any _freaks_."

The silence seemed to linger forever as they sized each other up. So far this one man alone seemed more effective than the entire Vatican army. Finally the Colonel spoke.

"We don't care what you are," he said boldly. Black saliva dripped from the rotted holes in his cheeks. "We're still _hungry_!"

* * *

**TO BE CONTINUED...**


	5. Part 3

**PART THREE**

* * *

**The Headquarters of the Hellsing Organisation  
London, England**

"Master? Master, where are you?"

Seras Victoria, a monster employed by Hellsing, searched the grounds outside the initial compound. There was a private ground filled with trees and shrubs: a forest in miniature often used as a training ground for the soldiers. Though tonight something else stalked the darkness. No, not stalked: strolled. She could hear her master's joyful humming in the back of her mind with ears not of this mortal plane.

"Master?"

"Such a pleasant night," came a deep voice. Seras looked and there he was, standing in the clearing when before there was nothing, the moonlight playing off of his glasses, coat and hat, all red as fresh young blood. Clearly he seemed pleased. "Can you hear them, Police Girl?"

"Hear who, Master?" She had often had difficulty fully compensating between her old and new selves. Though she slowly began to accept her instincts as a nosferatu they did not come natural to her as of yet: there were a lot of nasty human habits in her yet to be broken.

"Listen." She did as he commanded and closed her eyes. Each time she unleashed this new power was like opening a heavy door. It was not easy but when she did so the power was overwhelming like an ocean torrent.

Millions of heartbeats raced as they sat and waited. Every one was overcome with fear knowing that the end of the world was upon them. The airports were overbooked, the highways packed and the streets lined with those who could do nothing else but run. Others sat quietly in their homes and awaited death while others still chose to die on their own terms.

"I can," she gasped. They were miles away and yet she could feel them all breathing heavily and shifting listlessly in time like a concerto of raw, animalistic fear.

"Such greed making way to such terror," Alucard mused. "Is it not delicious, Police Girl?"

Seras salivated, sharing his eager anticipation of the bloodshed to come. Every night her master would reveal to her another even more alluring side of the nosferatu as beautiful as it was horrific. "Yes, Master."

Alucard looked up, hypnotised by the moon. He wanted to howl, to laugh, to cry out with the thousands of souls he had consumed in hate and hunger and forbidden glory. Instead he smiled humbly and continued his stroll.

"What an extraordinary time, the last days of men." In his immortal life he knew one day he might live to see it: never did he dream it would come so soon. To the fates he made a trifle, selfish wish. "I should only pray that it does not end with Alexander Anderson."

* * *

**The Spanish Coast**

Colonel America drew the holy blade from his temple with black blood dripping from it. The blessed metal didn't burn him, nor did it the others, just as the wards scribed with holy scriptures did not bind them. Father Anderson was clearly not amused.

"Ye nae be the Devil's beasts then," he muttered. "But ye still be cursed. Ye still be the undead walking a damned existence. Ye still be the sins of mankind made manifest..."

"I don't know what made you think a few bits of paper would beat us," Hawkeye growled.

"Magic." A concussive blast shot from Iron Man's palm, propelling the warrior paladin across the ground and shattering his ribcage. He lay on the ground writhing and twitching, still smiling as he struggled to find breath. Iron Man looked over him with both pity and hunger. "I hate magic."

"Then we end this now." Giant Man's foot came crashing down, covering the warrior paladin with one foul step and pressing down with all of his weight. Anderson was crushed like a bug.

Luke Cage scowled at the sixty foot zombie. "Damn it, Hank! That was going to be our next meal! You know they only taste good when they're still alive!"

"Couldn't risk it," he replied. "I wasn't going to let us get halted by another magician. Remember the trouble we had with Doctor Strange? Besides, if you still want some what's left on the bottom of my boot will still be good."

Suddenly Giant Man seemed to lose his balance. He lifted his foot to offer the priest's remains to his fellow beasts when it suddenly came crashing down again. His knee trembled as the rotten flesh beneath the tight red costume began to crawl. Shards of metal began to prod outward then exploded, leaving the behemoth to tumble backwards with it's right foot missing.

From where his foot was only moments ago a pile of obliterated human flesh drew itself back together complete with it's priestly robes and eye glasses. Alexander Anderson once more took a comprehensible human form and stared the monsters down with a glare of disgust.

"Ye've nae got any idea what ye're dealin' with," he seethed. "Ah'm no' just a man. That alone would have'a no hope. Nae, ah'm an instrument of God almighty, an' ah nae just 'ave superstitious trinkets tae stop ye."

Colonel America stood ahead of the pack, trying his best to formulate a battle plan. He called back to the zombies. "Does anyone have any idea what the hell he just said?"

"Yeah," said Wolverine, his adamantium claws shining like silver from his thinning boney fingers. "He thinks even though his magic's no good he still has a snowball's chance of burying us."

Anderson grinned cruelly. "Ye'll nae be buried, beast. Ye'll be staked an' burned like ye deserve."

This was a personal challenge. The undead X-Man gritted his blackened teeth and snarled. "Hey, guys. How hungry are you?"

Colonel America scoffed. "You want him all to yourself, don't you?"

It was the knives, mostly. Back in the day Wolverine was the best there was at what he did, even if what he didn't wasn't very nice. The truth was what he did now was worse, but he couldn't stand to see a challenger gloating so blatantly. "You let me carve, I promise a piece each for the rest of ya."

"One on one in yere make do demon pit," the paladin chuckled. "Ah'll glady take on the lot of ye!"

They cleared the way as Logan ventured forward to the brave holy man. Metal almost sung as it scraped against metal as Wolverine cleaned and sharpened his claws. This time he wouldn't hold back: in fact he might even be tested. "You're gonna look real funny trying as we're pickin' bits of ya out of my teeth."

Anderson took a deep breath and drew two more blades, holding them against each other in the form of the holy cross. He spoke the Apostle's creed as he had countless times before. _"I believe in God, the Father Almighty, the Creator of Heaven and Earth, and in Jesus Christ, His only Son, our Lord..."_

Wolverine charged, his claws glistening in front of him. He leapt into the air and dived at the warrior priest threatening to slice him into shishkhebab. Though Anderson was ready and turned, his knives forcing Wolverine's away to either side. The zombie lunged: he still had his teeth, he could take a good bite out of him. The priest didn't hesitate a moment as he pressed his head forward, smashing the former mutants nose back in his skull.

For a moment he winced and doubled back, now unable to breath through his nose. Anderson smiled in satisfaction. "Got tae admit, it hurts bashin' them tin bones o' yers. 'Twas a good guess though that yer nose wasn't metal. What ye're feelin' is the cartilage shootin' inte yer brain. It won't hurt ye, but I bet it doesn' nae feel too good, either."

There was no response save the bloody roar of his next attack. One arm was caught by Anderson and the other narrowly avoided capture. Wolverine dealt what would usually be a fatal blow to the vital organs, each claw sliding in between the ribs and into the heart and lungs. When Anderson tried to push back Wolverine was in motion again and with one simple movement managed to slice off the arm he was going to be stabbed with.

With a low kick Anderson forced himself away. Wolverine couldn't help but laugh as he watched him squirm. "Think a shot to the jewels is gonna do much now I'm on the other side, bub?"

In mere seconds the wound had healed and a new arm shot out from the socket like a bullet complete with a knife to be projected through the bottom of Wolverine's jaw and into his brain. Were he still alive he might have been able to narrowly avoid it but being dead certainly slowed him down.

"Some... healing factor... ya got there..."

Anderson stepped back and drew yet another pair of blades. His expression turned deadly serious, almost serene. _"I believe in God, the Father Almighty, the Creator of Heaven and Earth, and in Jesus Christ, His only Son, our Lord..."_

"Cut the superstitious religious crap!" Wolverine pounced as the priest continued to pray.

"_Who was conceived of the Holy Spirit, born of the Virgin Mary, suffered under Pontius Pilate, was crucified, died, and was buried."_ Once more their metal crashed, both trying to force the other man back and prove that their strength was the greatest. Anderson was confident: he had God on his side. Wolverine was confident: he could no longer die.

Suddenly something gave way. Wolverine's necrotic muscles tore away from his adamantium bones as he forced them too hard. His arms went limp, flesh and bone separated. With one foul strike to each arm the pieces of metal fell to the ground: his ligaments weren't made of indestructible metal, either.

"What the hell have you done to me?" Wolverine bellowed. His fury overwhelmed him in a way it never had before. Being a zombie he had no healing factor and his greatest weapons had been stripped from him.

Anderson's composition hadn't changed. If anything he was more focused than ever. _"He descended into hell. The third day He arose again from the dead."_

"God damn you," he scoffed as the blades tore into his legs and shattered the rotten ligaments connecting him to his pelvis. Wolverine was left writhing on the ground without even so much leverage as to throw himself forward and bite him.

"_He ascended into Heaven,"_ he continued, only taking a short moment to study the movements of the rest. _"And sits at the right hand of God the Father Almighty, whence He shall come to judge the living and the dead."_

Logan stared back to his fellow undead and pleaded. "One of you get your butt in here and take this bastard down!"

Iron Man looked on with his visor raised. "This was your call, Wolverine. Pride has no place in our survival. This way, we've got one less mouth to feed."

"_I believe in the Holy Spirit, the holy catholic church, the communion of saints, the forgiveness of sins, the resurrection of the body, and life everlasting..."_

"Son of a..."

"Amen." Anderson delivered the final blow, prying the X-Man's head from his shoulders, removing his knife and pulling the brain out by hand. It fell to the ground with a wet squick and was then crushed under Anderson's boot. The priest looked around, disgusted that even such fowl creatures could let this fate happen to one of their own.

"Are you quite finished there, Father?" Tony Stark had never been a religious man, even when he was alive. The magic and the mythology of it all was too fantastic for someone as rational as he could believe.

"I'd walk ye through the sinner's prayer, even read ye yer last rights, but I doubt any a' ye would be interested," he mused slyly. "With all the power ye'll be pushin' 'round I dinnae think any a' ye'd ever really had the time for God."

Anderson's words, while profound, had absolutely no impact on the zombies who failed to understand perfectly clear Scottish. Hawkeye scratched his head. "Well that doesn't make a lick of sense."

Spider-Man choked out a rough translation. "Something something power something pushing ground something treaty that time forgot?"

The Colonel huffed and signaled the others to arms. "Who cares? Let's just storm him and eat."

"No!" Iron Man, Hawkeye and Luke Cage were bowled out of the way by a thick green arm. A very hungry jade undead giant began a heavy path careering into the warrior paladin. "Hulk hungriest! Hulk eat first!"

* * *

Nick Fury took point as his 'unit' scrambled behind him. Criminals, assassins and vigilantes: his new platoon of Howling Commandos were a far cry from the first, but they were all he had. A part of him was reluctant to bring more metahumans into the mix. After all every one of them lost usually spelled another added to the other side.

He sat, and waited, and watched. Whoever this Alexander Anderson character was seemed to be holding his own against them, or at least against Wolverine. Right now the odds seemed stacked against him. Still, if what he'd been told by Sir Hellsing was accurate their help wouldn't be appreciated anyway.

"Divide and conquer," he muttered under his breath.

"What was that, Colonel?" Castle was the only one to have picked it up. They had a history with each other: knew the other a little too well.

"That's what we'll do," he lied. He was actually talking about them. Once one of them, any of them were bitten there was no going back. A single blow taken instantly meant death. "We wait until they go on the trail. They'll be hungry and stupid, selfish. One by one we'll draw them away, take them out as quietly as we can."

"Not a very clever plan," sneered Domino. "Superheroes are always loud. We don't have the luxury of being quiet."

"Yeah and with one bite we switch teams, and I'm not talking about moving to San Fransisco," Deadpool quipped. "Going from Deadpool to Undeadpool isn't exactly high on my priorities list."

"That's why we've taken precautions," Fury told them.

Taskmaster didn't take his eyes off of the monsters. "What precautions?"

"The nanites you put in our food," Cable growled knowingly. The others looked to them in shock, then anger. "They contain miniature explosives. Our heads will be blown up before we have a chance to turn."

"God damn you, Fury," Bullseye seethed as he drew a throwing knife.

"Just... as a precaution," said Fury calmly. "We're not leaving anything to chance. Besides, if you do get bitten do you really want to walk around as one of those... things?"

The knives lowered and Bullseye lay in wait with the rest. "That doesn't illustrate the rest of your cunning plan."

"We follow the Punisher's lead." Castle looked to Fury questioningly. What was he talking about? "You've been doing your homework, Frank. Really think you could read up on every single hero on the streets without SHIELD knowing? You've had a plan on how to kill them for years and now we'll be needing it."

"This is information I could have used yesterday, Fury." The Punisher clearly wasn't happy.

Nick fought the temptation to light a cigar. He'd never been this scared, not even back in the war. He then smiled to his men as if it weren't a suicide run they were about to enter into. "Since when do you need prep time? All the Punisher has ever needed in the past was courage, perseverance... and an extra clip."

"I don't believe it," gasped the Taskmaster.

Looking over they saw the mad priest standing over Wolverine's dessicated corpse to tear his head off. He then reached inside and brained him while the other zombies just stood and watched. They looked on in disbelief as the empty adamantium skull dropped to the ground.

"Remind me if we get out of this alive," muttered Fury, "I have to do some checking up on Chapter XIII, Iscariot. Thank Christ this guy's on our side."

* * *

The Hulk charged with the force of an entire army, his mouth hanging open wide enough to bite a man's head clean off his shoulders. Anderson waited those crucial seconds to dive from his path at the last moment. He couldn't brace himself, not for such an impact: his blades wouldn't be able to shield him from a thing that could shift mountains.

"Sit still so Hulk can eat you!" it commanded. The warrior paladin had little chance to find stable footing. Each time the Hulk smashed at Anderson he struck the Earth, making everything within the immediate area tremble.

It was only a matter of time before he lost his ground and fell to the beast's mercy. Hulk grinned, his hunger overcoming him. "Hulk love when they squirm."

"Oh, ah'll do more'n that!" Another round of blades flew up from Anderson's arsenal, embedding themselves in the Hulk's neck, shoulders and stomach.

The only response was rage, an avalanche of fists and tiny screams muted by the blade piercing the monster's larynx. As blades flew and flew into him the Hulk pressed on, ignoring the attacks, single-mindedly closing in on his prey. "Puny human! Hulk make you paté or Hulk eat you whole!"

A large foot smashed Alexander Anderson onto the face of a nearby house and stayed on him, pinning him to the solid brick. With a single brush of his hand the blade handles shattered off of the weapons still embedded within the green behemoth's body. Picking at the hole in his neck he pulled another metal shard free.

On the sideline Hawkeye and Luke Cage watched and talked amongst themselves as the battle continued. "He's eating our food!"

"Do you want to go in there and stop him?" Cage scoffed.

"Only if he were the last man on Earth."

Hulk's thick appendage pulled away and let Anderson fall to the ground. He picked up the battered and weakened paladin and studied it. He hung like a ragdoll. Proud of his work he smiled. "God man soft. Hulk smash good."

"Ye're no' quite there yet, beastie." Anderson jumped to life, his maniacal grin dripping with his own blood. Two knives fell from with sleeves and with incredible skill he flipped and embedded them on the sides of Hulk's jaw. Gripping to them for dear life he pressed his feet against the giant's chest and pulled for all of his worth.

There was a muted cry when the jaw was pried away. It fell to the ground in the monster's horror, causing for him to drop the priest in panic. Anderson used the chance to move away and let his healing factor get to work.

He laughed as only a mad zealot would. "Ah'd like tae see ye eat me now!"

The Hulk tried desperately to push the bone back into place but to no avail. The priest's taunts only succeeded in infuriating him further, coaxing him to charge while wielding the jaw as a weapon. Anderson still laughed as he was beaten into mush, the disembodied bone grinding his flesh into a fine past.

"Hu' hun'huhy!" he wailed to the confusion of the others. Scooping up what remained of his enemy he allowed the fresh remains to slide down the hole in his face. What didn't go down so easily he forced down with the paladin's arm.

"That's disgusting," remarked the Colonel. "Look at him. He eats human flesh like a five year old."

"I was hoping for another loss," Iron Man lamented. "Of all of us the Hulk is by far the most difficult to feed. He's becoming a liability."

Suddenly there came a familiar feeling alerting Spider-Man to danger. His spider-sense tingled in the direction behind them. Had something been trailing them? He choked out to the others. "Guys... I think we're being followed."

"Food," Hawkeye hissed, almost happily.

From their hiding spot Nick Fury cursed himself and cursed Spider-Man's goddamn spider-sense. He gave the signal and they cocked their weapons. Like it or not they were about to march right into hostile territory, guns blazing.

"Here goes nothing."

* * *

**TO BE CONTINUED...**


	6. Part 4

**PART FOUR**

* * *

"I knew I should have stuck it out with those Hellsing guys."

Deadpool, the merc with a mouth, was by no means an easy opponent. Even before his cancer, before Weapon X grafted him with a bizarre form of healing factor Wade Wilson was a trained killer and a stone-cold assassin: one of the best in the business. Now with his mind broken and his body enhanced he was more deadly than ever, not that it seemed to matter against an enemy that was already dead.

The small mercenary force unloaded clip after clip into the enemy to no avail. They didn't even try to avoid the gunfire: all it did was punch holes in superfluous rotting tissue. How in the hell were they supposed to hurt a force that couldn't feel pain?

Cable and Domino were the first to go. They were firing back to back as the undead converged on them and were doing a pretty good job of it until a bolt of Thor's lightning blew them off their feet. Spider-Man was over Cable instantly while Thor and the Hulk fought over Domino. Clubbing the fallen god with his unhinged jawbone he cried out something that sounded like 'girls are tastier'.

Bullseye tried to use Taskmaster for cover when none of his critical shots were having any effect. Slitting their throats with playing cards would have done the trick back in the day: now all he could do was aim for the eyes and hope that blinding them would slow them down. Though Taskmaster could fight them off with a sword and shield he was eventually overpowered by their sheer numbers and so was Bullseye moments after.

The Punisher didn't relent or back down from the horror. That cold stare in his eyes said that he'd been dead a lot longer than they had and that nothing they could do would make him scream. A smile was painted on his face as they pulled his limbs free from his body. He probably didn't even feel the pain: he probably thought he was still pulling the trigger.

However Deadpool was playing it smart. When the bodies starting hitting the ground he made a run for it. Several shots from Hawkeye had severely injured his good shooting arm, so he decided to cut it off and throw it out as bait. They were so hungry they didn't even notice the grenade attached to it. It went boom and Luke Cage lost half of his rotten face.

"Come on. Just five minutes to try and grow a new one," he cursed to himself from behind a beaten pillar. The crunching of footsteps in the debris could be heard as they sniffed him out, their last vestige of food. He wondered where the hell Fury went: he hadn't seen him since the battle started. It was a damn shame: he could have really used the backup.

The monsters hissed as they trudged closer. He loaded a new clip. With any luck Deadpool would be able to catch one out and blow its freakin' head off.

"Surprise!" A line of web shot down and yanked the gun from the merc's hand followed by a reign of arrows pinning his remaining appendages down. They stung like fire as he tried to prop himself up but he was getting weak.

Spider-Man pounced and dived face first into Deadpool's stomach, eating away his intestines as he lay helpless. At first there was unspeakable agony which quickly made way to a cold rush: probably the zombie poison coursing through his veins. He could only hope they finished him off before he turned.

"Goodbye, little yellow boxes," he said to nobody with finality. "It's been a hoot. Really, it has."

Suddenly there came a cry from deep within the Hulk's bowels. The jade giant held his torso as if it were about to explode. When it did there followed the familiar flurry of knives trademark of his previous meal: Father Alexander Anderson.

The priest wiped the black goo from his vestments as he stood over the two halves of the Hulk. The undead's large, meaty hands clambered through the pool of his own intestines to find chunks of Domino to eat once again.

"Ye're once so mighty," Anderson said down to him. "Now look at ye. Truly ye've bin humbled. Ye're pathetic."

Though the Hulk ignored him and searched and struggled to keep his food inside of himself, the fear and panic mingled with unbridled hunger and eliminating any capacity for rational thought. What more could the paladin do? He did the merciful thing and put the beast out of it's misery, bashing it's skull open and destroying the brain seemingly without it even noticing.

"Ye dinnae need te rush te hielp," he chided the rest.

"He was fast becoming a liability," said Iron Man coldly. "How did you survive? We've eaten a lot of fast healers before. You're the first one to bounce back."

Father Anderson began to cackle. "Stupid daemons. Ye dinnae even knoll whut ye are!"

"Answer the question."

"Aye, ah'll answer," he spat. "The beast dinnae bite mae so mah regen'ration weren't halted by the dark forces thet turned ye. There's nae but deth in yere poison bite. A body dinnae need te heal nae more when it's died."

"Namor... died? Didn't we eat him?" Spider-Man choked.

"Enough talk," Colonel America roared. "Just because the Hulk couldn't keep his last meal down doesn't mean the Avengers can't!"

Alexander Anderson smiled at the prospect of the war starting again. A new set of blades seemed to dance anxiously between his fingers. For faith and glory his soul flared as he fended off the unholy convergeance. A knife wedged down the back of Iron Man's throat, another shattered what remained of the Colonel's left shoulder while a third punctured a hole in Power Man's lung, causing for it to whistle when he stood on a certain angle.

"Back! Back, ye deils!" he raged. "By the power of Christ ah stand an' from this poiput ah condemn thee to Hell!"

Suddenly there came a sound that had no right place in battle. As rapidly as the battle had started it quelled when the nearby voice of a young girl called out for help. Anderson's eyes widened in horror as the zombies to the back of the horde began to shift away towards her. Full of panic he tried to break through, but could not. For the first time since the battle started he was filled with fear: not for himself but for the wee lass trapped in the hellstorm with him.

"Ayuda! Se atrapa mi pierna!" Her leg was trapped. She was helpless and couldn't run. He damned her for not remaining silent and quickly recanted, praying to God for her safety and his own forgiveness.

The jungle of putrid limbs wouldn't hold him back. Hack and slash he cut his way through like they were feculent, festering vines in an unending jungle of death. He charged ahead, disregarding his enemy. He couldn't in good conscience let another of God's children be subject to this suffering. If it turned out she were a heathen he might have decided differently but all the same it was a risk he could not take.

Giant Man crawled, demolishing rooftops as he stretched towards the meal screaming for him to eat her. His gargantuan palms fumbled about as he reached for her. Her wail became louder and louder as he clasped the dark skinned maiden and raised her to his jowls. Suddenly he noticed something on the air: something not quite right.

"Wait a minute, you're..."

The dry, brittle bones in his giant decaying knuckles shattered as Alexander Anderson flew by with a deadly strike. He turned and clasped the girl close as they hurtled to the ground. Though he'd managed to soften the impact the pair still hit the ground heavily on his feet. In less than a moment he was running with her in his arms, though he didn't know how far his speed would carry them with her weighing him down.

"Ach, ye're a heavy one," he complained.

"How rude," she said as she took a bite of his shoulder. He should have realised when he caught her that she was too heavy, too solidly built to be what she appeared. Now it had cost him his life and purity. He fell to the ground and as the vicious carrion infected his body he looked up to see the girl's bloody smile and her holographic image blink away.

"Those... those teeth," he stuttered in recognition.

"All the better to eat you with," Deadpool seethed hungrily, still with the young girl's voice. The costume was all that was left of the man, even with a mouthpiece torn open and his intestines hanging out the front. In moments the other zombies gathered around him. "Eats are on, boys!"

Alexander Anderson prayed as he resigned his mortal flesh to such a terrible fate. He still had the strength to fight, but to what end? Now he'd been bitten he too would turn and be no better than that he faced. No, he was confident that the Lord would not want him to travel that path.

The zombies descended to sate their unquellable apetite, tearing at his flesh, destroying his body and drinking his blood like flowing wine. The sickness had taken hold, his body began to fail him. Heaven was only a few short moments away.

In a dying whisper he spoke the prayer for acceptance of death. _"Most Sacred Heart of Jesus, Ah accept from Yere hands whatever kind of death it may please Ye to send me this day, with all its pains, penalties and sorrows..."_

"Dibs on the kidney," Spider-Man croaked.

"You can have his heart," said Iron Man, hardly turning away from the feast.

"Why not just give me the lungs while you're at it?" he protested.

Slowly the warrior paladin began to fad_e. "...In reparation for all of mah sins, for the souls in Purgatory, for all those who will die today and for Yere greater glory..."_

Leaning back the zombies gasped, tasting the air instead of meat, satisfied with the meal they'd just made. Colonel America frowned with blood painted lips at the remains of the pompous zealot at his feet. He hadn't even finished his prayer. "Amen."

Deadpool leaned back and cracked his shoulders for the last time. His first meal was extraordinarily satisfying but as he looked down he discovered that he had some difficulty keeping it in. What he saw was an open wound: the mark of his undeath. "Thanks everybody. How's a guy supposed to eat when you can almost see right through him?"

"He won't even shut up when he's dead," Spider-Man complained.

"Like us he's practically immortal," said Iron Man. "We're never going to hear the end of it."

"You're just jealous 'cause I got first piece of Ned Flanders down there," the merc gloated. He reached into his belt and pulled a roll of duct tape from it, then wrapping layer after layer around himself and patching his entrails inside. Good old duct tape: always useful for something. "Tell me nobody's eaten Bea Arthur yet. I'd love to lay her down by the fire… and eat her liver with some fava beans and a nice Chianti!"

The group ignored him and gathered around Colonel America. "Alright. We've had a number of setbacks, but we've all eaten. From here we move north and take apart the larger European forces."

"Silence of the Lambs reference? Nothing?" said Deadpool still clamoring for attention.

"So what do we do?" asked Giant Man as he reverted to normal human stature. He struggled to maintain balance with one foot and a bloody stump.

"We call for backup," the Colonel announced. "We're not the only ones whose survival is at stake. Once we have numbers we move onto London… and the final phase of our assault begins."

* * *

**London, England**

The sound of each footstep resonated sharply down the long hallway of the underground facility. Walking brusquely down the painted white line between the smooth, cold, grey concrete walls Integra Wingates Hellsing grimaced. These were truly grim times and it did not amuse her that she should be summoned the way she had been.

She held her unlit cigarette holder tightly between her teeth for no other reason than to ease her tension by at lease pretending to smoke. Silently she damned such pointless military protocol and procedure. How was she supposed to breath easily and think properly without a thick cloud of smoke filling her lungs? As if she already weren't perturbed enough.

Walter followed behind, dignified as ever. It was hard to imagine that under the scrawny butler's placid exterior laid a skill monster hunter. Unlike Sir Hellsing he managed to keep his temper in check: after all he was merely a weapon and the beaurocracy did not at all concern one such as he.

Sir Tristan smiled wryly as he met her at the end of the corridor. He brushed back his short dirty blonde hair with an effeminate wave. Even before he'd opened his mouth he sounded as though he was gloating.

"Sir Hellsing, so good of you to join us," he sneered. "By your behaviour one would almost have thought you regarded team Excalibur far below your interest."

"Let's see what these superheroes of yours are made of, Tristan," she said coolly. There was no time for pleasantries: she already knew the capabilities of the heroes he'd drafted and little would change her mind.

He ushered them past the opening steel doors of the subterranian stronghold to where several costumed identities studied monitors, readings and papers regarding their enemy. They looked up as they approached, keen to hear whatever wisdom the great Sir Integra Wingates Hellsing could impart to them.

"Team Excalibur," Sir Tristan proclaimed.

She couldn't help but think what a motley crew they were: a young mutant resembling a blue demon, a dark haired girl who seemed too timid for holy battle nursing a small purple dragon, another girl claiming the title of Pheonix and a disconcerted blonde woman with odd features. The team's leader, a man whose uniform was stylised with the Union Jack approached her and offered his hand.

"Sir Hellsing," he greeted her. "It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Captain Britain."

She shook his hand: another mere pleasantry. "Of course you are."

"With me are Nightcrawler, Shadowcat, her dragon Lockheed, the Pheonix and Meggan," he continued. "We may be few, but we are formidable. We've saved the multiverse: hopefully this time we can save the Earth."

Integra smiled as she strolled up and down the room before them, inspecting them, analysing them for obvious flaws. Excalibur stood silent, knowing she was a woman of true power and influence not to be trifled with. Despite his dislike for her Sir Tristan had confided to them that she was a great asset they would be foolish not to exploit.

Lighting her cigarette she inhaled and exhaled theraputically. "Pathetic."

"Excuse me?"

"I said you're all pathetic." She hated repeating herself almost as much as she hated explaining herself. They should have had the common sense to know better. "Alien armadas and crossdimensional warlords are nothing the like of what you will soon face. You're ill-prepared."

"I sink zat you underestimate us a great deal, Sir Hellsing," said Nightcrawler in his thick German tone.

"These were your allies," she argued. "You fought together against 'insurmountable' odds, staying off 'unspeakable' evils, sacrificing yourselves for the greater good." Integra chuckled to keep from spitting. "They know you. They're coming for you. They will kill you."

"And we know them." Kitty Pride, Shadowcat, stepped forward, her face contorted in fury. "That gives us an advantage as well. We've seen what they've done and we know what they can do. We know that we can no longer save them from themselves. They must be destroyed... we've accepted that. So don't you dare call us weak."

Integra gave the girl a moment's pause for her temper to cool. "I didn't call you weak. I called you pathetic. Your strength is what the enemy will make into their asset." She mused for a moment on the name. "Kitty Pride. How apt, because that is exactly what will destroy you. All of you."

"That's quite enough," said Captain Britain as he stood between them.

"I'm in agreement," said Sir Tristan from his disapproving corner. "Sir Hellsing, Integra, your purpose here is to help us formulate a strategy. If you've nothing useful to contribute then I'm afraid you're no longer welcome here."

For a moment she dwelled on the knight's words and sneered back to him in contempt. "Plan? Why, the plan is very simple."

Captain Britain folded his arms expectantly. "And that is...?"

"If you care anything for your country, your loved ones or the human race as a whole then there is only one course of action to take." Her words were stark and bleak, though you could hadly expect nothing less from a masterplan by Integra Wingates Hellsing. "Kill yourselves now. Save yourselves and the world the heartache."

"Sir Hellsing!" Tristan roared in protest. "This is an outrage! How dare you come in here and threaten to undermine the plans laid out by the Round Table?"

Excalibur looked to them both in horror, as if the reality of what they were to face just dawned on them. Integra's expression sat like stone as she turned to leave with Sir Tristan yelling obscenities at her all the way through the door.

"Are you even listening to me?"

Clearly she wasn't as she turned to face her butler upon exiting. "Walter, see that they get a proper briefing."

"Yes, Sir Hellsing."

Sir Tristan followed as she strolled through the cement path leading back to the surface. Still Tristan could do nothing but express his conniption. "When this is all over I promise that the Queen herself will hear of this..."

Walter stood alone in the silent room. The air was thick with tension and fear: two traits which Walter himself had overcome and found in recent times that he had little to no consideration for. Now Excalibur looked to him for counsel, to impart decades of his accumulated wisdom upon them.

He smiled politely and looked down on them. "Do you love your country?"

"Yes," said Captain Britain without hesitation.

"Good." Walter turned and began to stroll after his master. "Then kill yourselves now while you have the chance."

* * *

**UNIT Command Centre  
An undisclosed location**

"Sir, we've just picked up the enemy."

Alistair Lethbridge-Swewart leaned over his subordinate's shoulder, staring at the obvious dot on the radar scope approaching the capital. His white-bearded frown dropped even further. Now was the moment they had been waiting for. So far every nation in the world had failed to hold their own: it was time to test England's mettle.

"What is their present location, Mr Crane?"

"Fifty miles and closing," said the UNIT soldier shakily. Fear dripped from his voice. "Sir, they're on an intercept course with Parliament House."

The former Brigadeer huffed at such bravado. It was entirely possible that after all of the carnage they'd already caused these 'zombie' creatures thought themselves indestructible. A sensible man such as Sir Lethbridge-Stewart wouldn't dare stand for such nonsense.

"Prepare the anti-aircraft missiles to launch," he ordered. "Mr Crane, let's show them how her Majesty welcomes invaders."

UNIT soldiers scrambled around the war room, some entering codes while subcommanders passed on orders through telephones. In less than a minute the arsenal was assembled and all that was needed was a final word of authority.

"On your order, sir."

Sir Lethbridge-Stewart inhaled deeply. Something unsettled him a great deal: something other than the oceans of blood already spilled that is. Were a certain old friend standing by his side he would have said that this all seemed a little too easy and as usual he would have agreed. What he wouldn't have given for his sagely advice at that moment.

Without hesitation he gave the order. "Fire."

A series of markers appeared on the main screen, each of them heading from the coast towards the approaching bogey. There were only seconds until impact. He prayed that the missiles did their job, that the beasts be destroyed in a final hail of fire. He prayed that that the attack didn't fail and that all they'd succeeded in doing was making them angry.

The room listened as Mr Crane counted down. "Five... four... three... two... one... impact."

There was silence. If the monsters had survived they would respond straight away making the following seconds absolutely crucial. Every eye in the room was glued to a screen, searching desperately for any sign of movement. Anything at all would signal that the war for survival had spilled onto their home soil.

Every moment felt like an eternity and search as they might their instruments showed nothing. For the time being Sir Lethbridge-Stewart thought it safe for his heart to beat again and release a heavy breath.

"Call Sir Tristan," he ordered the second in command. "Tell him we've downed the Quinjet off the coast and give him the coordinates. It's time for Excalibur to get to work."

* * *

The remains of the Avenger's Quinjet descended quickly to the ocean floor taking nearly half a billion dollars of Stark prototype stealth technology with it: not that it seemed to matter now of course. If anything the undead Iron Man found the sight rather cathardic leaving a symbol of his pityful mortal life behind him. Like the others he had ascended to something even more powerful.

Then came the final phase of their attack. With the Quinjet destroyed they would be able to quietly swarm Britian. They had to cover their tracks every step of the way and remove all elements that could have them discovered such as the trail of oxygen bubbles escaping the hole in Spider-Man's throat.

Colonel America signalled frantically. Though it seemed fortunate that they no longer had to breathe it was still very difficult to speak underwater. In moments Deadpool was over the wall-crawler, patching his neck with the duct tape that had served him so well.

Step by step they reached the coastline. Colonel America couldn't help but smile as they approached: the thought of all that fresh meat was more than tempting. Once again he was starting to hunger...

* * *

**TO BE CONTINUED...**


	7. Part 5

**PART FIVE**

* * *

**12 Hours Ago  
Tokyo, Japan**

"Please... no..."

Yuriko Oyama begged as she trembled, pinned by the combined strength of She-Hulk and Miss Marvel. Before this moment she hadn't feared death or cowered from an assassin's blade, but old superstitions crept into her mind when the fallen heroes came not only to eat her body, but her soul as well.

"You tried to hurt us," seethed the jade giantess as she leaned closer to Lady Deathstrike. She licked her cheek then took a soft bite, tearing away a strip of flesh with her teeth. It was a tasty entree for what was to come.

"Father, forgive me," she murmured. It shamed her that she should be reduced to this, a blubbering mess before the minions of Hell. In her mind she deserved the tragic end that was to come of her: that was to be her penance for being weak.

Miss Marvel growled, the familiar hunger beginning to take hold. She was growing impatient with these games. "For god's sake, Jen. Just eat her and move on."

"Let me play with my food," she argued softly. "Let her know just what's coming to her. It's the least we can do..."

"They would have taken their own lives with or without my help," Yuriko spat, summoning her familiar anger. "They would have rather sacrificed themselves and be at peace than to become your food!"

"But that's the thing, Deathstrike. You did help," She-Hulk laughed, forcing a sharp fingernail into an open wound. She scraped at the flesh and pulled away, then tasting the little piece of Yuriko she'd taken. "Because of what you did countless more will have to die so that we might eat..."

The assassin steeled herself, trying her best to remain strong as she marched into Hell's gates. "What kind of a fool do you take me for? You will not stop until you have picked the bones of the entire world and when that day comes you will starve and you too will die!"

"Enough!" Miss Marvel dived jowls first for the neck, tearing through the skin and drinking deeply as a rush of blood poured from her bite. She-Hulk hadn't even time to protest lest she miss another crucial feeding.

Their meal finished the two former heroines took to their feet and looked over the floor of dead bodies before them: a sad mass of former humanity lost to a suicide ritual. The bodies were already rank and the air was thick with the stench of death. To most it would be a tragic sight, but to Miss Marvel and She-Hulk it was only food gone to waste.

"I was having fun," she pouted.

Miss Marvel huffed. "We're not here to have fun. We eat because that's all we can do anymore. There's no time to stop and enjoy ourselves, especially not with an army of super-zombies spread around the world thinning our already low food supply."

"People are like cockroaches. They never die out, not completely. If they could survive against all that we've faced they can survive us as well."

"Say that again when we're fighting over the contents of your stomach." Suddenly there came a sharp buzz from a device on Miss Marvel's side: a device she'd completely forgotten about. She picked up her Avengers emergency communicator and opened it curiously. "Hello?"

"Hello, Carol," came Iron Man's faint reply.

"Tony Stark," she hissed. "I thought I told you that I never wanted to hear from you again: not after you bit me and turned me into this... this thing!"

"Skip it, Carol. From what I hear you've moved past your self-hatred and made the most of your... current condition."

She-Hulk looked confused. "Tony Stark is one of us?"

"Tony Stark is Iron Man," she said to her disbelief. Secret identities didn't really mean much anymore. "I still stand by what I said, Tony. I want nothing more to do with you and that's that."

"Will you put your pride aside for just one minute? This is Avengers business." Her silence indicated that she was listening. "There are forces out there conspiring to destroy us, Carol. You and I both know that we can't let that happen, even if it means the end of humanity. Right now we need you or else we're all dead."

They two heroines stood and stared, quietly dwelling on the thought. Miss Marvel spoke into the communicator. "I'll assemble my team. What are your coordinates?"

"Spain, en route to Great Britain," he informed her. "We need everyone we can get when we march on London. They're going to be expecting us."

* * *

**Now  
London, England**

"The blood... the blood..."

Captain Britain knelt on his home soil, the battlefield laid out before him. Once the zombies strolled ashore they pushed through the barriers in minutes, completely annihilating the military, the navy, the air force, even UNIT. It was only then that they would allow for Excalibur to be deployed and try their hardiest to defeat the heroes at their own game. It was just as Hellsing had warned them: they were waiting and they were hungry.

"The blood..." Captain Britain gasped. "It tastes... so... good..."

With the zombie forces replenished it wasn't long before Excalibur were completely overwhelmed and starving for flesh. Like the others consuming a human being was so fraught with guilt, conflict and personal hatred, but all of this was quickly pushed aside by the intense satisfaction that came with a hearty meal. In no time at all the blood and the bones became as meaningless as the human lives they once protected: now they were just cattle.

Nightcrawler leapt from body to body, disappearing and reappearing in puffs of smoke as he picked at several bodies almost simultaneously. Kitty Pride phased through the soldiers, solidifying inside and eating her way from within. Meggan seemed to lose all shape and simply landed on her prey, covering them like a blanket and swallowing them whole. Meanwhile Quicksilver raced about like a wild animal, his hypermetabolism breaking down what he consumed far too quickly and leaving him in perpetual hunger: even moreso than the others.

Miss Marvel clawed at the soldier's organs when Iron Man snapped his ribcage open. A smorgasboard was presented before them as the meal struggled through it's last few breaths.

"I take back what I said, Tony," she said to the iron avenger with a mad grin. "This is the greatest thing that could have ever happened to us."

* * *

Integra pushed her long blonde hair away from her face and began to clean her glasses. The way she conducted herself in the war room one could possibly mistake her for being oblivious to the carnage unfolding outside. It didn't concern her: at least not until her hands were untied and she could clean up the whole bloody mess her way.

"Any word from Sir Lethbridge-Stewart?"

"The UNIT base was taken a few minutes ago with everyone trapped inside," the leftenant reported. "There was no possible way anyone in that facility could have made it out alive."

"What about our ships?" roared the commander. "Our subs! Our aircraft! Is there anything left at all?"

The leftenant bowed his head heavily. "A few, sir, as well as our reserve and volunteer forces. Though I don't think they'll do much good. The enemy have torn through the rest like tissue paper."

Sir Tristan held a delicate white handkerchief to his lips to save himself embarrassment should he gag. He was defeated, humiliated, his organisation now a mere husk of what it once boasted to be. "This is impossible. Her majesty's assembled forces taken apart like... like children's toys!"

"If only someone had warned us that this might happen," the Hellsing director interjected dryly.

"Does this satisfy you?" he spat, his lips foaming like those of a rabid dog. "Does it placate your ego to see Britain torn asunder? Does it make you feel as high and mighty as you paint yourself to be? Well? What say you, Integra Wingates Hellsing?"

Inhaling on her cigarette she rose to her feet and gazed into Tristan's furious soul with placid eyes. He was of no concern to her: he was merely a spoiled child. "It only serves me to curse the fates for her majesty's temporary lapse in judgement. Otherwise I can see no reason why you would have been offered a seat on this round table."

The thin knight lunged at her, his hands threatening to throttle her neck until it snapped. Several of her bodyguards held him back, forcing him to recompose. "A part of me hopes you fail, Hellsing. It hopes that they eat your smug face and choke on it for all the good you will do."

Integra smiled. "Then I take it to mean, Sir Tristan, that command has finally been passed onto me."

He didn't look back as he marched from the room. Below them was an underground railway system where a car awaited his arrival. From there he would travel to the countryside and take his rightful place beside the Queen, protecting her with his life.

"Battle stations!" she cried mercilessly. "I want every man on the field, lined up and forming a blockade! They will march and push the enemy back into the ocean! Every man with a gun from the remaining forces can stand behind them, and I want my top agent there on the front line giving them _Hell_!"

* * *

_Thump, thump._ She could hear it in the building, from behind the black brick. _Thump, thump._ It was nowhere and everywhere, as if they were inside of it. _Thump, thump._ But inside what? _Thump, thump._ Inside the heart. Inside the heart of the Hellsing Organisation. _Thump, thump._ It beat violently as blood pumped onto the sidewalk. _Thump, thump._ It pumped into homes. _Thump, thump._ It painted the walls and gave the young ones nightmares. _Thump, thump._

Seras Victoria sat and waited. The witching hour was growing near. She could not say for certain if what she felt was fear: perhaps that was something only mere mortals were afflicted with. Needless to say the future hung precariously and even immortals grew mad with impatience. There was the job her master had created her to do, but small minded bureaucrats would have them kept on a tight leash.

Her own heart did not beat anymore. It had died with her former life as did it's symbolism, it's sentiment and the needs that came with it. In it's steed came a new sense of desire unexplainable by a human tongue. Perhaps it was a brand new sensation concocted in the imagination of Lucifer himself. Either way, with all of it's unique pains, she liked it.

The heartbeat of the Hellsing Organisation quickened, perhaps readying itself to join the rest of humanity. _Thump, thump. Thump, thump. Thump, thump. Thump, thump. Thump, thump. Thump, thump. Thump, thump. Thump, thump._

Suddenly there was silence. Was it silence? No. Suddenly there came the moment of realisation when a gradual fate was manifest. Finally, their time was at hand.

Her heavy chamber door swung open violently to reveal her master waiting expectantly at the threshold. His eyes were wide, insane with waiting as he moment of release came to hand. Alucard's smile was so wide as to reveal every one of his smooth, sharp, white teeth eager to tear into it's destined target.

"Our moment has come, Police Girl," he laughed with sadistic glee. "Are you ready for it?"

"Yes, Master," she said with the youthful enthusiasm only a fresh familiar could portray.

He nodded agreeably, understanding more than her mere words. "I can sense that you are. I have grown restless with anticipation. Let us now step into the battlefield and boldly play our parts!"

"Yes, Master!" Her cry was like that of a powerful orgasm, only infinitely more potent. She would follow him to the ends of the Earth and on this very night she may yet have that opportunity. No, there was no fear left in her: only unspeakable hunger.

* * *

Colonel America surveyed their work as he gnawed on what remained of a man's fingers. At this point they couldn't afford a single shred of meat to go to waste, not if they wanted to stave off further hunger.

Now that the European power base had been dismantled they could afford to plan for the future. Human meat would never again exist in such abundance, not unless extreme measures were taken. Once upon a time the idea of forming breeding camps would have horrified him but now it seemed the most rational solution.

"And lo he didst looketh upon his works and yay, they were good," Thor roared happily as he balanced a fresh carcass over his head. The full moon shone upon his back forming a picture of ultimate conquest and destruction.

Spider-Man choked out a hoarse laughter. "That was too easy! Hard to imagine there was a time these guys got on without us, eh Colonel? ... Colonel?"

From the distance came a noise that drew away the attention of the former war hero. Thousands of footsteps came marching in time ever closer, every man in chorus singing a passionate song of death, glory and immortality. It was a sound that he never imagined he'd ever hear again, not in all of his days: the familiar song of another of God's self proclaimed armies.

"Colonel?" Spider-Man saw him staring into the distance and he too listened, picking up what the others were too occupied to notice. "Hey, guys. Does anyone else hear that?"

"I never thought... never thought I'd see it again," he stammered in awe.

"What is it, Colonel?" Iron Man said shaking him. "Damn it, Steve! What is it?"

Spider-Man groaned. "It's not Nazis, is it? I freakin' hate Nazis."

"No, Spider-Man. Not Nazis. Huh, I wish it were." The Earth almost seemed to tremble on their advance as the night air made itself still. The Colonel remembered: there was a great power approaching.

"Colonel, who the hell are these bastards?" Iron Man bellowed.

"The Hellsing Organisation."

The almighty chorus ceased and was quickly replaced by the clicks of heavy personal artillery being cocked and primed. The crusaders under Hellsing aimed their rifles through metal shields and were each adorned with the same sandy golden armour covering every inch of their body.

"Squad!" the commander called to them,

The zombies hissed at them and readied themselves for battle. They paused, waiting to react before tearing this new round of victims apart.

The squad commander called out from behind his men. "Open... fire!"

As the first reign of explosive shells showered down on them, Thor, Miss Marvel and Iron Man took to the sky, followed by Spider-Man swinging closely behind, all ready to deliver death from above. Quicksilver ducked and weaved at unimaginable speed with chunks of his necrotic body flying off his body from the strain of g-forces. They closed in, poised to make the same short work of this army than they had many others.

Suddenly Quicksilver's head exploded, his body then tumbling aimlessly to the dirt. Spider-Man sensed danger at the very last moment, just as it was too late to avoid the heavy bullet smashing through his skull and leaving him to the same fate as his teammate.

The three fliers looked to the young girl on the ground wielding cannons a good deal larger than her body with the greatest of ease. Her eyes glowed a supernatural tint of red, filled with horrors they could barely comprehend.

"Take her down!" Iron Man ordered, but as they converged they were greeted halfway by three very precise shots exploding in their faces.

Seras Victoria smiled viciously as she watched them plummet to the Earth. Foolish monsters, she thought with a giggle. She viewed them with a sight beyond this plane: she could see them move before they even knew it themselves.

Deadpool, ever the skillful assassin, appeared from behind her and moved in slowly. Were she not so joyfully engaged in the battle before her there might have been a chance she heard him coming before he thrust his katanna through her heart. In an instant her arms grew heavy, tired and the twin Harkonnen cannons fell to the ground beside her.

"Sorry it had to come to this, babe," the merc apologised flatly. "We could have really had something, you know? Sure, you're a far cry from being one of the Golden Girls, but given a few centuries... hey, who knows? Things'd sure be lookin' up for the two of us! But no, you had to play traitor to your own kind and I had to kill you... again..."

Though she couldn't hear him: Seras Victoria's head began to swim as she faced her second death. It was certainly a lot colder than the first time, and darker. With her mind she reached out, calling to her Master. "Master..."

"I hear you, Seras Victoria," came his voice, deep as the darkness she was falling into. "Do me proud now as you have always done."

"Yes, Master..."

Suddenly she came to hear Deadpool's rant. "...gone for a chick with big, phallic guns. Then again I'm a swords kinda guy. What can I say?"

With her last ounce of strength Seras Victoria reached for her weapon and gripped it in hand, impaling the undead fool on the end of it's barrel. "I... am not... your plaything..."

"Can't we just kiss and make up?" he said as he tried to fight his way off. With a pull of the trigger the heavy bullet fired point blank inside him, shooting upwards and exploding his head like an overripe melon.

Seras Victoria collapsed backwards, spent, dying. Her heart had been pierced and even her Master's magic could not keep her together for much longer. She simply lay on the ground and wondered what the next world would be like.

"Good work, Seras Victoria," Alucard congratulated her from beyond the void. She wanted to thank him, to praise him for all that he had done for her but she could not even summon a whimper.

Seras Victoria fell back into death's embrace while her body broke down, now nothing more than a pile of dust to be lost in the wind.

* * *

It was very sudden when the wind began to pick up. When a moment ago the sky was clear heavy, black clouds began to gather around the full moonlight, swirling like a vortex. Colonel America listened to the distant noises: what sounded like insects, wolves, crows and bats. Of course that was impossible. They'd killed all of the animals along with the people. There should have only been the foolish soldiers who'd practically offered themselves as food.

A chill ran up his rigid spine with a terror he'd thought long since buried. He reasoned with himself: he was dead. There was nothing more hidden in the dark that he could possibly be afraid of. When once he fought monsters he was now one of them and ran with an unstoppable force the entire world couldn't halt.

Though as proud as Colonel America was nor was he irrational. There was nothing on Earth that would give him such pause for thought, but of Heaven or Hell there was no doubt many. What he was about to face he was certain was of the latter.

"He's here," he muttered, still frozen in his steps.

Atop a fourth story tower among the ruins Alucard stood, a master of all that he saw as the once great Avengers battled for supremacy against his captors. The great vampire began to chuckle, gradually letting it grow into a maniacal laughter booming throughout the emptied streets of the city. Below him the battle stopped, every eye captivated by his aura, his power and his amusement.

"Who the hell is that?" whispered Hawkeye sharply.

"These are the monsters after which I have been sent?" he wailed. "I see no monsters before me! I only see the weak! The infected! The plighted! I only see the conquered icons of mankind's heresy made slaves to their own hunger!"

"Come down here and say that!" She-Hulk taunted.

"Freaks! All of you, freaks!" Alucard, Hellsing's ultimate weapon, peered directly into Colonel America's eyes. What was once the United States' ultimate super-soldier stood like a deer in the headlights. "You go where the need takes you, even pretend to be monsters because you're left with no other option! You're pathetic! All I see before me are spoiled victims who cannot control their appetites... and do nothing more than waste good food!"

Iron Man shook the star-spangled avenger from the hypnotic gaze. "Colonel, who the hell is that?"

Colonel America stared back up, locked in the path of the eyes he could never forget. "His name... is Alucard."

"Alucard?" The assembled Avengers looked around in confusion, as if the name was supposed to have some significance.

The proud vampire raised his arms and slid his wide-brimmed hat from his head. Long black hair flowed as a chilling wind began to blow. "Oh, accursed damnation," he howled. "What feeble offering do you lay at my feet? Master! What would you have me do, oh Master?"

All was silent bar the wind as Alucard searched the oncoming squall for an answer to his torment. Again he cried out, "Master! What would you have me do, oh Master? Give me orders! Master! Orders! Master! What would you have me do, Integra! Wingates! Hellsing!"

The soldiers of the Hellsing Organisation stood at attention before the zombies who themselves were in a state of cautious pause. Colonel America wasn't talking and something epic was obviously unfolding before them.

"What's the bet we have another Doctor Strange on our hands?" Miss Marvel hissed to whichever Avenger stood beside her.

Throughout the city were littered speakers, a remainder from the Great War: loud speakers through which the air raid sirens were sounded, though tonight they broadcast a very clear voice. It was the voice of Sir Integra Wingates Hellsing.

"Do not toy with me, vampire king," she scolded as her voice raised. "You have your orders! Exterminate! Annihilate! Cleanse the filth from the Earth! Leave nothing standing!"

As suddenly as it started the hard wind ceased and Alucard began to laugh hysterically. For the first time the zombies realised exactly why Colonel America was afraid.

Captain Britain was dumbstruck. "Did she say... 'vampire king'?"

"Think about it," Iron Man sneered. "Alucard backwards..."

"... Is Dracula," Nightcrawler finished breathlessly.

The freak-hunter reached into his coat pocket and drew a long heavy weapon: the Hellsing ARMS 13mm Auto Anti-Freak Cannon, 'Jackal', a weapon too powerful, too potent for a mere mortal to wield. His demonic glare smiled as he pointed it to the prey below. "I hear you, Master! I hear you and I obey!"

* * *

**TO BE CONTINUED...**


	8. Part 6

**PART SIX**

* * *

**Falsworth Manor, England  
1943**

"_Captain America... oh, how the mighty have fallen."_

_I was supposed to be the best: the pinnacle of human strength and endurance. I could run all day, climb a mountain and dodge bullets without breaking a sweat, but yet never had I felt so weak and helpless as I did at that moment. My body was at it's peak, I was in my prime, the scientists had gone so far to call me a 'perfect' specimen. Though what good was a 'perfect' body without a ready and capable mind to guide it?_

"_It seems you've stumbled upon my little secret," Lord Falsworth mused. From head to toe he was draped in a costume of midnight black and imperial purple. It was the symbol of his transformation, the creature he had become. "Did you think I would not notice you, sneaking about my gardens? I am more than a mere man, 'Sentinel of Liberty'. I am reborn! I am nosferatu! I am a creature unlike anything you've ever dreamed!"_

_As much as I battled the vice-like grip he had over my mind I could do nothing: I was just a doll standing in his chamber, waiting to be bent to his will. He looked perfectly ridiculous in that costume, as if the bat-like fins were supposed to make him look terrifying. What a shame that my life should have ended like that, at the hands of a theatrical pansy like him._

"_I wish for you to amuse me," he said dryly. "I wish for you to scream in protest, beg for your life: to express whatever feeble thought rests within that head of yours, oh Captain, my Captain. I grant you permission to speak..."_

"_Falsworth, I'll see you suffer for this." My response was automatic: I didn't even know if it was really me saying it._

_He responded first with a sharp backhand across my cheek followed by a rotten sneer. "Lord Falsworth is dead, you pompous bafoon! I am the least of him, yet I will surpass him, for I am no foppish English lord! No, I am... Baron Blood!"_

_More than anything I wish I could say I hated the melodrama most, but no. Before his death and rebirth Lord Falsworth had done something I hated even more. "You're a traitor... to your country and to the crown! You've sold out your homeland and your fighting men and women for your own personal gain!"_

"_It was never my homeland," he said flatly. "It was merely the place where I happened to be born. That I should feel no love for it, for soil and dirt, is hardly important. I have seen the future, Captain, and Britain has already failed. A new age is upon us and those who are smart enough may very well live forever."_

_He forced me to my knees with a the wave of his hand. Suddenly carrying myself was like trying to benchpress a truck. Around in circles he walked like a vulture readying himself for the final kill. I managed to spit at him. "Millennium... they did this to you. They want to make... ugn... an army of undead soldiers... and you volunteered..."_

"_Of course I did," he gloated. "I would be mad not to! What would we have had to look towards otherwise? Old age, death, the ultimate humiliation of our minds and bodies failing?"_

_I struggled. "What do you mean 'we'?"_

_He grinned at me, his teeth glistening as he readied his bite. It was a blow he planned to inflict with a very specific purpose. "What I mean, Captain, is that you are about to be enlightened as to what a burden it was to be human."_

_Suddenly the doors of the study burst, shattering into splinters. In the same instant a boy even younger than Bucky flew in, arms flailing skillfully as the thin stream of wires sliced through the Baron's arm like a hot knife through butter. Initially I'd thought that Walter C. Dornez had no place in this war, that he was far too young, but his skills said otherwise._

_Furiously the Baron caught him in his gaze, catching him with the same move that he'd used on me. I thought that with his attention divided that I might have a chance to break free, but still his hold was strong. Instead I had to lie there and listen to him rant._

"_You dare challenge me, boy? Are you so eager for death that you would burst in here and ask me for it? Because I can assure you, there are quicker paths to Hell..." Falsworth stopped, confused. The boy was laughing: it was weak, but he was definitely laughing. "I don't see anything funny about this, boy."_

"_Oh, A-a-aluca-ar-ard," he managed to call through his almost hysterical snickering. I could have sworn then and there that the shadows literally bled from the corner. It seemed that was exactly what young Walter wanted. "S-say he-hello... to the Mm-major... for me..."_

_His eyes widened at the mention of Millennium's figurehead. "Who are you exactly, boy? Who sent you?"_

"_You simply cannot keep yourself out of strife, Walter. This will never do." There was a girl standing in the corner. I didn't notice her come in and by the look on Blood's face I'd say neither did he. She couldn't have been much older than Walter, but her demonic red eyes told a different story._

_With a sharp nudge of the boy's shoulder Falsworth pushed Walter to the ground like a rag doll. He clutched at his right stump, trying desperately to keep all of his blood in his veins. The young girl, far from sweet and innocent, eyed the pool hungrily, yet she managed to keep herself in check._

"_You... you're him," he gasped with a sadistic smile. "My lord, it is an honour. I have heard a great many stories..."_

_She tilted her head curiously as if his words were alien. Suddenly grasping the meaning she frowned indignantly upon him. "I am afraid you're mistaken. I have no idea what you're talking about."_

"_We will duel," he announced. "I will take you for Millennium! I will take you for immortality! I will take you that this beautiful war might never end!"_

"_Fool," she said as her voice dropped like a stone. Her eyes flared as the walls crawled and billions of insects poured from the cracks. Still I couldn't move as the elements clashed in the very room before me, death looming with expectation. The girl didn't flinch, she just spoke those cold, lonely words: "You are about to be enlightened as to what a burden it is to be inhuman..."_

_There's where the nightmare always ended. Even after all of the things I'd seen I knew that horrors such as those didn't exist, not in the real world. There were no monsters: only men who do monstrous things._

* * *

**London, England  
Now**

"Squad! Fall back!"

The call was repeated by several commanders down the line once Sir Integra had made her announcement. They inched away, never for a moment taking their eye off of the enemy. All they could do now was sit back and watch patiently as Hellsing's pet came out to play.

Colonel America stood frozen. There was no doubt in his mind that this was the same creature as the one he met that night. No other creature, man or demon, was that far gone. That little girl all of those years ago, over six decades, had somehow grown into the monster before him: Alucard, agent of Hellsing, king of the vampires.

"I hear you, Master!" he cackled wildly. "I hear you and I obey!"

The Jackal roared as the first bullet fired down the barrel with phenomenal force. The air around it burned as it soared towards it's intended target: the arm of Hawkeye, pulling back his bowstring as he took precise aim. Rancid meat exploded as his arm was obliterated, leaving the stray arrow to misfire and land harmlessly in the distance.

With each shot the gun cocked itself and was ready to fire again in quick succession, launching heavy rounds into the heads and hearts of the undead. Miss Marvel flew in for a frontal attack, relying purely on his strength to get her through. As a wide gaping hole blew into her chest she fell from the sky and to the ground before him.

Alucard smiled upon his works and walked towards the dead superherione to inspect his kill.

"Carol," the Colonel gasped as he looked from behind his shield. Miss Marvel lay perfectly still, but he knew she was only playing dead. There was no way a blow such as a destroyed heart would kill any of them: she wanted to lure him closer. He cursed her for being so stupid.

With a gentle nudge of his shoe Alucard tested her. She was certainly dead, had been for a while, though this was the first time he'd ever come across a walking corpse smart enough to convincingly play the part.

"It's no use pretending," he said knowingly. "You dare face me, I want you to die on your feet. Stand." She stirred only slightly, still feigning weakness. "You seek to test my patience. Hnh. I am immune to your petty games, freak."

Hissing hungrily she snapped to all fours and within a fraction of a second she lunged, taking a good bite from Alucard's calf. Insulted he slapped her away sharp jab that took her nose and a great deal of her face. Miss Marvel lay on the dirt and looked up to the vampire, satisfied with what she'd done.

"If we could turn Blade and Morbius then we can turn you too," she laughed sickeningly.

"Nice work, Carol," Iron Man chuckled sadistically. "How does he taste?"

She spat his meat out. "Terrible..."

Alucard looked down to the open wound, seemingly unconcerned as the virus began to run it's course. The massive hole was already turning black: he extended his garb so that it was covered. Perhaps he should have been worried. As they'd said even vampires were not immune. The thought gave him pause for merriment: he was not like them.

The zombies laughed feeling secure in their victory: all except for Colonel America. He waited and watched, uncertain as to what abilities Hellsing's dog had hidden from them. Alucard smiled: it seemed the nightmares had taught the old soldier well.

"How amusing," Alucard lamented. He wretched, summoning the thickest bile from the bottom of his bowel. He wretched, drawing the black goo from deep within and summoning it to his throat. He spat it in Miss Marvel's face and watched as her expression dropped. "That is what I think of your poison. You can have it back."

She gasped in surprise. "What in the..."

"Silence your fool's tongue!" He raised the Jackal to her temple and flirted a moment longer with the trigger than he should have. In that moment he took to soak in the anticipation a sonic boom shattered the air and a pair of fists collided with his chest, forcing him off the ground then flying him into a wall. Captain Britain had him pinned and had shattered countless of Alucard's bones in doing so.

"We're hungry," the Captain drooled. "You will not keep us from our food!"

"Is that so, 'John Bull'?" He raised the Jackal, but his wrist was quickly caught in the Britain's grasp. Squeezing with all of his super-strength the bones shattered and ligaments tore: it would have been pure agony, but Alucard would not scream. He smiled widely, joyous at his predicament.

Captain Britain was not amused. "If I were you I wouldn't be smiling."

"Oh, but John Bull, this is simply too marvelous," he wailed. One couldn't help but wonder if he was ranting from sheer hysteria in the face of such intense pain, but Alucard was no stranger to it. Instead his heart had been set aflame. "I never thought I'd see the day... yet another new kind of freak: another challenge to conquer!"

"Not for much longer." Captain Britain pressed in further, cracking the stone lying behind the vampire and liquefying his organs. Still Alucard grinned, drinking it all in like sweet nectar, as if pain were the only thing that reminded him he existed.

His free hand shot up like a searing dagger completely destroying his oppressor's shoulder. Captain Britain cried in frustration and grabbed his enemy by the scruff of his collar, throwing him to the ground in the ring of zombies assembled behind him. Iron Man, Thor, what remained of Giant-Man and Luke Cage, the Wasp, She-Hulk, Miss Marvel, Hawkeye and Excalibur looked down on him, caging him in like an animal.

"So much for the 'vampire king'," Giant Man remarked casually.

Inhaling sharply the flat bag of flesh and bone pulled itself back together, then lost itself in the mad flow of his bright crimson coat. Alucard turned wildly, pointing the Jackal threateningly at every enemy before him. He laughed, taunting their weakness and ineptitude. "Come on, freaks! Hurry up and kill me!"

They didn't have to be asked twice. Almost immediately Alucard was struck with Iron Man's repulsor ray at full power punching right through him, the cleansing flame of the Phoenix, arrows that Hawkeye awkwardly fired pulling the bowstring back with his teeth and finally from Thor a bolt of lightning that shook the Earth and sent them all flying back.

Colonel America was the first to bring himself to his feet and ignored the others as they argued, chastising Thor. He inched towards the epicentre of the strike, to where a smouldering body lay flattened, perforated and cooked by everything they had. Though it had all been burned away he could still make out a manly shape lying with his arms outspread as if he'd welcomed his demise.

With a swift crack from the blunt edge of his shield he attacked the neck, freeing the vampire's head from it's body. His hair had been badly singed and the skin of his face had shriveled, now tightly hugging the bones beneath. The Colonel grabbed a remaining tuft of it's hair and picked it up, holding it out at arm's length. He considered the creature whose remains lay before him. Could this really have been the same Alucard of 1943?

Thor scoffed and turned to leave. "Pitiful. 'Twas a meaningless distraction to our hunger."

"That was even easier than that Scottish priest," said Hawkeye as he followed with the other Avengers. "You coming, Steve?"

Still Colonel America pondered the scorched head. There was no way the battle could have been won that easily: not by a long shot. Hellsing's Alucard was a creature of power and hate and jealousy: a force of and against nature turned loose on the dark corners of the world.

The eyes shot open with pupils of blood red. Alucard smiled a toothy smile and laughed breathlessly as he taunted the Avenger.

Colonel America jumped back and dropped it to the ground. With his shield at the ready he sneered. "I knew it. I knew it would take more than that..."

"Colonel! Join the line!" Iron Man barked from the back of the group. With their team leader going slowly mad he'd assumed control and no Avenger seemed to disagree.

"Why?" Colonel America pleaded with all of his hate. He raised his shield above and brought it down, bashing the mutilated skull into the Earth. His desperate scream could be heard for miles around. "Why won't you die!?"

* * *

The picture crackled from the satellite feed as Integra watched the battle unfold. The Avengers and Excalibur were advancing north towards the barrier, leaving behind Colonel America to stare awestruck at her agent's remains. She frowned at the knowledge that Alucard was having more fun than could be afforded them, but she supposed that was simply the nature of all things. Never before had he ever failed her and this time would be no exception.

"What should we do, Sir Hellsing?" asked a terrified commander from behind her. What he saw on the monitor he took at face value. Why wouldn't he? He didn't know any better.

"We wait," she said coolly, again lighting another cigarette.

He was shaking, panicked. He probably even thought her mad. "With all due respect, sir, we simply cannot do that! The enemy is approaching and soon they'll reach our forces. Perhaps if we summoned what remaining vessels we have and launch a fighter attack from the south we can box them in and..."

"And with all due respect, commander, you are not the one in charge." She rose to her feet, her expression unimpressed. "Since you are not familiar with Hellsing's strategies I will forgive your imprudence this once. Those navy vessels could be better used to evacuate civilians to another continent."

"But, sir..."

"Don't," she began harshly, "question me again. Is that clear?"

He swallowed his pride as bitter a pill as it was. "Yes, Sir Hellsing."

She looked to the screen for a moment then turned back to her path to the door. "What you see is Hellsing's top agent lying dead: the latest victim of an unstoppable foe that would consume the world. Do not trust your eyes, gentlemen. They are foolish."

As she stepped through the wide doors of the war room and into the featureless grey hall she was met by Walter, his own face painted with concern. He bowed to her politely when he recognised her mood: one that had little to do with the disagreement inside.

"Is everything alright, Sir Integra?"

Giving the situation another moment's pause she then huffed. "It's nothing of concern. It seems that Alucard is choosing to cut it very fine in this battle."

"That is his way," he reminded her. "If I may ask, what course of action will we be taking in the meantime?"

She blew the thin jets of cigarette smoke from her nostrils. "I simply need a moment alone to think. I believe I can trust you to overlook the situation should anything arise."

"Of course, sir." With another polite bow Walter parted ways: he into the war room whilst Integra made her way to a private chamber. She retained a constant, flat demeanour as she advanced. After all she couldn't appear worried in front of the troops, not even for a moment.

The single door slammed behind her. The room had everything she needed: a bed, a desk, a computer, a telephone and a light. With any luck she'd be able to muster a better plan than relying on the brute strength of her family's secret weapon. Better men had tried and failed that very night.

It was only for a brief moment that she let her guard down before a hand jerked back her head and the cutthroat dagger pressed dangerously near her jugular. "Hands where I can see them, Hellsing."

She did as she was told. The voice was more than familiar to her. "Father Maxwell. I heard that you'd made it out of Spain alive. It's a pity about your agent, though."

"Spare the mockery," he seethed.

"Then we'll skip the smalltalk. What is it that you want?"

"I want you to withdraw your agent," he stated simply. "Pull him from the field. Let those monsters finish this world. Let it be emptied of all humanity."

She sneered, almost laughing. "You must be mad. If you think I care so much for my own life that I'd condemn countless others to death then I am afraid you are mistaken."

"I told you to spare the mockery!" He shook her, enough that a drop of blood ran down her neckline from contact with the blade. "Do you think I don't know what that monster of yours really is? If I'm not mistaken, you're the last to carry the Hellsing name. You have no heirs."

"And what consequence is that?"

His breathing became heavy, infuriated. "You humiliated him, Hellsing. You and your entire family. Abraham Van Helsing imprisoned him and since then he's been bound by blood to servitude. Without you he is free to do as he pleases: he is free to take the world as these creatures do!"

Integra sneered so that she mightn't struggle not to laugh. "Is that what you really think? Maxwell, you're less than a fool, you're a fucking idiot! Next to the myths you clearly don't know anything at all. Without Hellsing he is nothing."

"Then it doesn't matter if I finish your life right now." She was silent: she needn't give him another reason to end her.

* * *

"Die! Die! Die!"

By that point he was just pounding the asphalt. The Colonel's knuckles shattered as he continued to assault the fine paste that was Alucard's skull. Being dead he couldn't feel the pain of the broken bones in his hands or how the punches were softening with every blow.

Iron Man sighed heavily. "For God's sake, Colonel! He's dead! We have to move!"

The star-spangled avenger didn't give up. He grabbed his shield and started bashing it against the ground in a primal display of rage and desperation. "Shut up, Tony! You don't know him! You don't know what he can do!"

"Every second we waste here is crucial!" He yanked the Colonel from his knees and drew him close to make sure he was understood. "We have to move. The forces north of here are mobilising as we speak. We tore through the rest because they weren't prepared. Every second here is another second for them to ready themselves."

"Tony, if we leave him he will _end_ us!" Colonel America's undead eyes were wild. Though his body was but a husk his basic will for survival still burned inside him and would not allow him to stop.

"Leave him," She-Hulk called out from the pack. "He'll only slow us down. The rest of us are getting hungry!"

The two Avengers glared at one another, neither of them willing to be the one to back down. However Iron Man had the team behind him and all left to the Colonel was superstition and an insane flashback to a distant struggle. He huffed at his others, determined to return to his work. "If you walk away now you will regret it."

"It's a risk we're willing to take," came Stark's snide reply.

Colonel America turned away. He had more important matters to see to, even moreso than food. Looking down there was nothing: only the black road where a body should have been. With a grunt he turned to his teammates, his eyes darting around and searching for signs. "Where did he go?"

"What?" Iron Man looked down and realised what the Colonel was looking for. The other Avengers gathered around, curious as to the goings on.

From all around them, from the night itself came the vampire's devilish laughter. His voice echoed from an unseen chasm stretching from the sky to the base of their chests. He mused loudly, "You needn't worry about the other forces. I rather think you have your hands full here."

Stark opened his visor and searched, hoping that his eyes could see what his sensors couldn't. He bellowed impatiently, "Show yourself, Vlad! Let's finish this right now!"

"Vladimir..." He meditated on the name. "I haven't been called that in such a long time. Why, it's almost as though he was somebody else entirely!"

"Shut up!" Iron Man cursed. "Show yourself!"

Shadows bled from the cracks of the pavement and quickly formed the shape of a man. The darkness dripped away as a sinister tint of red washed over him, revealing his physical form. Alucard smiled playfully. "Catch me... if you can."

He didn't need another moment's notice before opening fire. Solid bolts of hard light projected from his palms with force enough to give the Hulk a second thought. Though Alucard evaded it easily, his very body seeming to melt around the line of fire. He still had that infuriating grin smeared across his face as his body began to come apart.

"What the hell...?" Iron Man's systems were confused. In place of one target there were suddenly hundreds of thousands swarming towards him, diving at the chinks in his armour. One by one the army of locusts pried their way inside the plates and began gnawing on the walking corpse inside.

The other zombies watched and listened to him scream. Some even dared approach but quickly backed away fearing the same fate. After a moment the sounds of torment stopped and the Iron Man armour was perfectly still.

"All of you freaks are exactly the same." They jumped and saw Alucard was standing just where he was the minute before. With a wave of his hand a gust of wind blew over the empty suit. It hit the ground with a hollow clunk. "You possess power over the living but none of the dead. That makes you weak."

"We... are not... weak." Colonel America trembled as the battle raged inside of himself. This was no nightmare: it was the real world and he was an Avenger. Along with him teammates they'd conquered gods and monsters, fought back armies and stayed the hands of time. Who was a single vampire to speak down to them? That thought was all it took to overcome his fear and embrace it as a weapon. "Avengers! Excalibur! Assemble!"

Alucard beamed with joy as they approached. With the Colonel in the game it was finally an even battle. "Why, Captain, I see you've rediscovered your famous courage."

"The name's _Colonel_America, buddy." The zombies gathered behind him, hissing and frothing at the mouth. Hunger was beginning to set in again and they didn't appreciate this dog keeping them from their meal. The Colonel took his battle-stance and the others followed suit. "Avengers! Excalibur! Take him apart!"

"Excellent," he said, beside himself with perverse delight. "Show me your power... that I may show you _mine_!"

* * *

**TO BE CONTINUED...**


	9. Part 7

**PART SEVEN**

* * *

Colonel America snarled. His small army of zombies gathered behind him, bathed in the moonlight as they approached, converging into a small circle around Alucard. "We've fought the Masters of Evil, bested the Super-Skrull and beaten Thanos of Titan," he gloated. "And believe me, pal: you aren't Thanos."

Alucard beamed, his broken mind reveling in the thought of the oncoming carnage. "You talk boldly, Captain. You may even have the strength to back it up. I may even have to draw on my full powers to defeat you."

"I'm betting you're all talk," quipped the archer as he pulled the bowstring back with his teeth.

"No, Hawkeye. There'll be no more talking." As one they charged, Colonel America leading the fray with a furious swipe of his legendary shield, though it was like stabbing a wall of rushing water as Hellsing's dog transformed into a swarm of bats and flew to higher ground.

Once more Alucard took his native form and cried into the night sky. He needed to be at maximum strength to defeat this foe, of this there was no doubt: though he would never beg for Hellsing to release the shackles binding him. How could he? He was the proud vampire king, challenger of God, the great immortal! No, he would never beg. Instead he would scream and call and demand his freedom.

"Integra Wingates Hellsing!" he bellowed furiously. "Heed my call! I command of thee! Release me from these bonds! Release control art system to level zero!"

Colonel America was growing impatient with his constant running. "Thor, get up there and shut him down!"

"Verily!" The late god of thunder swung his mighty hammer and propelled himself skyward and into the path of his enemy. Mjolnir's epic blow sent Alucard flying back over the rooftops and landing with a hard crash through an oversized Dethklok tour billboard. Thor scoffed at the pitiful resistance he was met with. "Methinks the cur doth not wish to exchange blows."

"Just hurry up and finish him!" the Colonel roared.

Alucard raised himself to his feet, cursing. Why? Why did Integra play these games with him? Why wouldn't she simply grant this simple request? Did she want him to plead? No, she was too pragmatic for that, even when Alucard tried to petulantly order her. "Master! Release me! Master!"

"Submit to thy gruesome fate!" Thor was foolish to announce himself so: perhaps being undead had filled him with the folly of feeling invincible. Alucard almost paid him no heed as he once more drew the Jackal and with a very casual shot removed the hand wielding the fallen god's weapon with a small explosion of rotting flesh. The parted god and his hammer both fell to the ground clumsily as the vampire king continued his search.

He cried out to the streets. "Master!"

"Alucard!" The loudspeakers echoed a high pitched squeal as they came to life. The voice booming from them tried to command him. "Alucard! I free you from your bonds! Release control art system to level zero!"

The vampire was puzzled. The voice did not belong to his master: it belonged to Walter, a servant like him. His face contorted at this offense. It wasn't a servants place to perform the job of a master. He wailed in protest, "Master! Where is my master!? Where is she!? Where is she, Walter!? Tell me!"

"Alucard!" The voice repeated itself. "I command you! Release control art system to level zero!"

"Don't order me, fellow servant!" He wouldn't hear of anything else. It had to be Integra that would release him or else it simply wouldn't do. "You and I are equals, Walter! You cannot command me!"

"Release! Release control art system to level zero! Alucard! Release!"

The zombies gathered around the base of the building and looked up as the vampire argued with the night. It was an amusing event the likes of which they'd never seen. She-Hulk cackled. "Look at him. Calling for his master like she's his mommy! Talk about dependant..."

"We've got to stop him," stated Colonel America flatly. "Whatever that control art zero thing is can't be good for us. He needs to be taken down fast."

On top of the building Alucard spun, screaming at the darkness with all of his lung's strength. He was hysterical, flailing the Jackal around as he raged. "Master! Where are you, Master!? I command you to speak with me! Speak with me now, Master!"

Thor took to his feet and retrieved Mjolnir while the Avengers and Excalibur climbed up over the edge to join him. As one they moved in together towards the madman, determined to finish him once and for all.

It was as almost as if they weren't there. Alucard ignored them completely in favour of his tirade. "Where are you, Integra Wingates Hellsing!? Where are you!? Master!"

* * *

"Sir Hellsing? Sir Hellsing, are you in there?" The soldiers rapped on her door, anxious for a response. What a pity for them that she was committed to silence lest the greedy blade of the mad priest pressed behind open her neck.

Father Maxwell smiled. "What are you waiting for, Hellsing? Answer the man."

At the best of times she did not enjoy being ordered around. As it happened she enjoyed it far less when the orders came from a fanatical heretic threatening her life. Still, she had no option but to comply. "I am here."

"Is everything alright, sir?" the soldier said through the door. "We've been knocking for some time and there has been no answer."

"Everything is fine," she told him.

"Now, now, Hellsing. Deception is the Devil's game. You're supposed to be a Holy knight," he teased maliciously.

Integra sneered in disgust. "Don't be stupid, Maxwell. Do you honestly wish to be discovered attempting to take _my _life within _this_ territory?"

"What do you care?" His tone had flattened, almost to the point of melancholy. "I certainly don't. I am a Holy representative of the one true God and I am not afraid to die in His name."

"Sir?" called the soldier.

"Lies." Again Integra defied her captor's will. "You came here because of what happened to your Vatican church. Oh yes, I know how quickly it fell. Your existence is worthless without a Holy symbol to prattle on about, so you've come here to die."

"Answer him," he seethed, trying his best to ignore her games. Every second grew more difficult as the dagger's hungry edge flirted ever closer.

"Sir, it's Alucard," the soldier announced. "He's requesting you, sir. He's requesting that you initiate the release of control art system to level zero."

She could smell Maxwell's grin on his salty breath. It was so thick that she thought she would wretch. She sighed and then spoke to him curtly. "Soldier, I am unable to come out because there is a man in my room with a knife pressed against my throat."

"Sir?" came his confused reply.

"You heard me, man! We have a hostage situation in here! Bring more men!" No matter how many times she was forced to teach the lesson it only grew more infuriating: she hated most of all having to repeat herself.

Father Maxwell was pleased by the news he'd just heard. His twisted intent was immediately reevaluated with a result far more rewarding. "So that's how it is, is it, Hellsing? You keep your dog bound tighter than we'd thought. He must be more powerful than we'd ever dreamed..."

"Oh yes, he is," Integra agreed pleasantly.

The priest was confused by her shift in tone. The dagger pulled closer questioningly. "Why the change in mood, Hellsing?"

"It amuses me," she laughed. "You think the situation has turned in your favour. Nothing could be further from the truth. As tight as we've managed to bind him there was never a hope of truly containing him."

"Lies do not become you, Hellsing," he cursed her, but her calm, polite demeanour revealed the opposite. "He the vampire they once called king. Now he stalks the Earth and preys upon his own kind. Why would he do such a thing?"

Integra's revelation dropped upon Father Maxwell like a lead brick. "Penance."

His face contorted in anger. "The Devil you say!"

* * *

"No more running! No more hiding! Tonight, vampire king, you will die!"

Colonel America's proclamation was bold and he had every intention of acting upon it. The zombies followed his impassioned charge and came down upon Alucard with single-minded aggression, tearing him limb from limb.

"Master," he gasped, his weak voice heavy with melancholy. "I didn't want for you to miss this, my Master. Oh, how glorious it will be..."

Kitty Pride shrieked as she tore through him. "What's he talking about?"

"I think he actually wants to die!" Captain Britain observed as he tore away every chunk of skin and bone he possibly could get his mighty fists around.

"Forgive me, my Master." Alucard's eyes slowly came to a heavy close. Then came his deafening roar. "Releasing art control system to level zero!"

From somewhere deep inside his buried heart came a mighty crash like an empire falling, the force of it rippling over the city and forcing the zombies back into the shadows to watch the eye of the storm unleashed. The Avengers were accustomed to battling the odds and overcoming them, but never before had they seen such a raw display of supernatural power flow from one being. Through mist and steam and smoke Alucard's form was lost and the zombies were forced to battle their way through the white clouds rushing outwards to them in all directions.

Colonel America had to scream to be heard over the shrieking gale. His words were weak and vague: the winds would not be ignored. "We need to get close and stop him before the transformation is complete!"

"There's no way we'll ever get clo...!" The sound of Wasp's voice was quickly drowned out.

Nightcrawler focused on the target with determination filling what remained of his rotting black heart. He leapt forward, no match for the unadulterated strength of the razor-like stream of wind, but with small leaps and his natural teleportation ability he inched ever closer.

An image of how his victory would be won crawled through his mind. When he finally arrived he would snap his neck, reach down it's throat and pull out the vampire's brain with it's spinal chord. Should that fail he had other plans but nothing was going to keep him from taking Alucard apart with his bare hands.

Moving closer and closer he was blinded by the white as he felt the soft gel coating his eyes being stripped away by the elemental force. His sight would only be a small cost next to his final victory when he placed his hands around... he was stopped when a shadowy, clawed hand reached out and clasped his throat, then raising him high as if he were nothing.

"Unten gesetzt mir!" Nightcrawler hissed as he struggled. "Unten gesetzt mir oder mir tötet Sie!"

"Nein." The tail of the cyclone tore into the blue mutant's chest like a bastard sword, dragging out a long trail of his insides with the greatest of ease. Running in terror Nightcrawler turned and attempted to teleport to safety, but with every jump the cyclone followed and took another pound of flesh.

It wasn't certain that it had ever let go or if it could follow the zombie between dimensions and continue it's work there. The onlooking Avengers and Excalibur were certain never to find out when the bones of their lithe companion were laid in front of them: a preview of what was to come.

Suddenly the wind ceased and all was still. There was nothing left on the bare rooftops that moved save themselves. Alucard had disappeared to parts unknown.

"Jesus," gasped She-Hulk over Kurt's remains.

"Isn't here," Hawkeye growled. "And you can bet your sorry ass that if he was he wouldn't be on our side!"

Captain Britain stepped forward, asserting his own leadership. "Try and keep your mind on the issues at hand. The battle has been long and arduous. We've lost some of our number and the rest of us are getting hungry. There are UNIT shelters not far from here. I say we split up and feed."

"No." Colonel America stared at the horizon, transfixed by something invisible. "He's still out there. We weed him out, we stick together and we fight until he's destroyed."

"You said it yourself! We can't think straight if we don't eat!" He growled, clutching at his own stomach. "I can feel the hunger taking over already. I've never felt anything pull at me like this before. I don't know if I'll ever get used to it."

"We stay the course. If we distract ourselves then we're dead for certain," Colonel America stated flatly. He pointed to the distance. "Listen over there."

The air carried nothing except the discontented groans of their party. Fighting for survival almost seemed pointless, trivial when hunger dictated their every waking thought. It made it hard for them to focus, to listen, to get a handle on what Colonel America's was getting at. How he resisted temptation seemed almost mysterious and for that they hated him.

"I don't hear anything," Giant-Man spat impatiently. Suddenly his eyes grew wide along with others in the group. "Wait..."

It wasn't thunder: it was too heavy to be thunder. Thousands of feet beat down on the dirt, on the paths, filling the streets with their number. Windows crashed and horns blew as a rampaging army stampeded London town, claiming all that they saw in the name of their master.

The zombies were extactic, smiling and drooling at the thought of what approached. Rachel Summers, the Phoenix, laughed, delirious with hunger. "Food! Food is coming to us!"

"No." Colonel America's expression was grim. He looked down to the tide of medieval warriors coursing towards them. He couldn't feel the familiar warmth of countless bodies huddled together prepared for battle, they didn't carry flaming torches: the night still had it's bitter chill. They marched together in the shadows, the moonlight only catching the occasional glimmer of their blades.

"Colonel?" Hawkeye stood by the leading Avenger, studying the swarm.

"It's Alucard," he seethed spitefully. "Alucard is coming back to us."

* * *

The soldier's report came weakly through the door. "Sir. Word topside is that Alucard at full power. Walter says we can expect situation resolution within the hour."

"Hubris!" Father Maxwell's hand trembled as the thick lumps of hatred clotted his veins. His initial plan was quickly becoming pointless as the Hellsing Organisation one by one revealed their cards to him. "To take a prisoner is one thing, but to compromise yourself by regarding him an equal..."

"You and I are both steadfast in our beliefs," said Integra so thickly she was almost bragging. "Forgiveness is divine. Why, even patience is one of your seven holy virtues, is it not?"

"Forgiveness is given to those who would ask for it," he spat. "I doubt that the proud Count Dracula would ever stoop to begging."

"What he asked for not in words he asked for in deed."

"Forgiveness is God's gift to humanity!" He was hot with rage, his skin burning to a fever pitch. "Your monster, Alucard, is no man. He disregarded that long ago. We cannot afford to him what God has decreed he does not deserve!"

Integra huffed. She was growing tired of these games, waiting for the knife to do it's work, feeling the condensation of his hot breath accumulate in her ear as she stared mind-numbingly at the same orange wall. It was becoming pitiful, almost painful. "Why are we still standing here, Maxwell?"

"Quiet," he ordered her.

He should have known better than to think she would listen. "It should be clear by now that my purpose has been served. My hand in this conflict has been played and I am now as useless as you as the final stage is set for Armageddon."

"Shut up!" The flat edge pulled against her throat, making it hard to breathe. Integra laughed: she had nothing to fear from him or his cheap little weapon.

"Why are we still standing here, Maxwell?" The silence between them was almost thunderous: the accumulation of years of distrust, anger and zealous hatred boiling to a head. "There are soldiers outside out the door. At the first sight of you they will shoot and you will be dead whether I am or not. Do you understand that?"

"I told you that I was not afraid of dying," he reminded her.

"Then why haven't you killed me yet?" She gave him moment for pause lest by some miracle reason pay him a visit. "Surely you realise that what you intend is nothing less than murder. The knife you hold doesn't represent an end to our crusade. All it represents is your own wrath, your own human frailty and your failure to walk a righteous path."

Integra didn't see the thin stream of tears roll down his cheek. His voice didn't for a moment waver. "Those monsters... they took our Holy mother from us. Perhaps this is God testing us to see our mettle. All I know is that I cannot bare to see what remains fall into the hands of filthy heathen protestants."

"What you're doing is a sin!"

"Then I pray God forgives me," he scowled.

"You know that it doesn't work that way," she replied, in her mind cursing his desperate stupidity. "You cannot commit murder then expect to be immediately absolved."

"That is God's decision." Maxwell's breathing grew heavy in preparation for his final act. The knife turned and positioned itself in his hand. "I would gladly break each of the Ten Commandments in His name, even if it meant my own damnation!"

"Soldiers!" she cried out, but it was too late to give any further instructions. As the sharp edge ran along the line of her neck Integra Wingates Hellsing felt her head grow light and weary as the blood rushed from it and out of the gaping wound. Her body fell to the ground with a heavy thud, her fading heartbeat like a bass drum in the back of her mind. All she could see from where she lay those last few moments of consciousness was the pool of blood washing over the hard floor.

Finally, it was over, she thought. Finally she'd be able to see Heaven shine. She would meet her God and tell him of all the good works she'd done in His name. Not even her insane killer could spoil the peace that had suddenly taken her.

"You will not rest in peace," Maxwell chided coldly: a parting message as he sent her on path to meet the Devil.

The door burst open with a heavy boot and the soldiers swarmed the room, the first wave kneeling down and giving the second room to cock and aim their rifles. Maxwell stood, a guilty smile painted on his lips. The satisfied glint in his crazy eyes betrayed his intent. Even after committing such a heinous act he would not repent.

"On your knees! Hands on your head! Now!" the soldier barked autonomously. He looked down to see Integra swimming in her own red puddle. The sight of his commanding officer in front of him caused for him to scream. "Medic!"

"This was no sin," Maxwell bragged as he stood frozen. "This was God's work. He guided my hand. It is His judgement that would condemn you all!"

The soldier repeated himself emphatically. "On your knees! Hands on your head!"

"Never!" Perhaps in Father Maxwell's mind he thought himself untouchable, emboldened by God's righteous hand. Then again perhaps he saw no need to continue his life and would allow himself to burn out in a blaze of glory. Whatever lay inside his head was sure to come leaking out when Maxwell made a threatening move and a soldier with an itchy trigger finger put a bullet straight through it.

In that final moment, the split second before his body went limp and succumbed to collapse, his spirit smiled. Even without the Vatican he could rest knowing that he'd lived to see a world without Integra Wingates Hellsing. He thanked God and felt safe that the world would be a better place without her.

* * *

**SHIELD Helicarrier  
Above Amsterdam, the Netherlands**

The gruff old soldier limped through the vessel, his beaten brow heavy with responsibility. He was starting to feel his age: coming up to a hundred if he was a day, but he looked nothing over fifty-five. Still, even at that age he'd already felt he'd lived too long, like he was an old relic fighting the new wave. In his time it was all about fighter jets, rising empires and atom bombs. Now it was terrorists, extremist groups, biological warfare... and zombies.

"Welcome aboard, sir." The young lieutenant saluted enthusiastically. Poor kid probably thought that the legendary Nick Fury had arrived with a plan to win the day. No such luck, Fury thought, sublimating the disappointment in himself with a long drag of his cigar.

"No time for brown nosing, son. We have work to do."

He marched down the solid steel corridors lined with pipes and grates with his closest subordinates in tow. The vessel was on high alert with a soldier stationed at each door. It did the warhorse's rusty heart good to see that someone managed to maintain the illusion of security. They stood at the ready as if their guns would do any good against this form of threat.

"Everything they ever taught you in basic training, forget it," Fury stated. Brusquely he arrived in the main control room where soldiers in tight blue and white uniforms darted back and forth in a flurried exchange of intel. "We're going to need some heavier firepower."

"How heavy, sir?"

"Heavy as they come, kid." He punched in a sequence of codes and upon the main screen appeared a tracking system following a number of satellites miles above the planet. "I know what you're going to say, kid. Those are Russian satellites. Drastic action number two in a situation like this..."

"Forget everything I ever learned about foreign policy?" he asked. Fury nodded in confirmation. "In my honest opinion, Colonel, I think they could forgive us considering the circumstances."

"They won't forgive us if we leave them blind and defenseless," Fury scoffed harshly. "But if this plan fails we'll all be dead anyway, so I don't give a rat's ass."

"If I might ask, sir, what is the plan?"

He sat, paused and watched the aerial view of the battle in London unfold as several lenses identified and focused on key figures on the ground. A window focused on a lonely black figure wrapped in a tattered black cape. Fury scowled at the sight of him. "This is what Integra Hellsing's been hiding from us this whole time: a monster that fights monsters. It's what she hopes is going to save the world from the combined might of two unstoppable teams of zombie heroes."

The lieutenant watched the monitor closely, hypnotised by the dark figure. "Sir, and then what do we do? Where do we come into it?"

"If she fails," Nick began, but stopped himself to let out a heavy sigh. He dropped the butt of his cigar to the floor and ground it under his boot. "When she fails... then we step in and blow them all to kingdom come."

* * *

The night was rank with carrion and the red mist mingled with blood. Colonel America and his fellow zombies could taste it's flavour: it was old and stale and served as a warning to those who would dare venture through it, as if old London town spoke 'abandon hope all ye who enter here' straight to the pit of their souls. It spoke only as a city could, not with sights and sounds but smells and hints as it's dark aura encompassed them.

Colonel America refused his sturdy countenance the betrayal of expressing fear. His heart no longer beat and beads of sweat wouldn't drop from anxiety. The only thing that could give him away was locked inside his own mind as the brave, experienced Avenger took control.

"Hold your positions," he ordered from the front line. His shield was held in front of him as he poised to charge the very second they came in range. Hold, hold: he cursed himself, impatient to get the death and destruction over and done with. This wasn't what they sought. What they sought was food and sustenance, not carnage.

The army before them numbered in the thousands. There were turks in robes and turbans, knights in heavy, bloodied armour, German soldiers wielding berettas, lugers and submachine guns and countless vampires from the ages, each an anachronism, a victim of Hellsing's sinister profession. They crowded before them, filling the avenue while the sounds of countless more flooded the sidestreets, filing onwards and around to box them in.

Every one of them shared the eyes of a killer. Every one of them sought honourable death for greater glory. Every one of them would not for a moment hesitate to deliver a killing blow, even at the cost of their own life. They were Alucard's army of the dead: every soul he had feasted upon and consumed, regurgitated and changed, now slaves to their new master's will. Judging from the ensemble cast assembled it seemed that nobody was free of his influence.

Atop of the rise there sat a sole figure different from the rest. He sat mounted on a black stallion and from underneath his own dark, tangled mane the older man looked down upon them all with tired, melancholy eyes. His teeth gritted, shining from the rough black beard under his nose as he reached under his tattered cape and drew a heavy sword from his side. The steed neighed like a howl as it balanced on it's hind legs and the army cheered in an intimidating display of force and unity.

Miss Marvel gasped. "Is that...?"

Captain Britain nodded. "Count Dracula, in the flesh."

"Hawkeye?" Colonel America didn't need to say another word. The late Clint Barton pulled an arrow from his quiver and loaded it with his mouth while his remaining hand held the bow. He drew back, the string and arrow held in place with his jaw while he took careful aim of the enemy leader's heart.

Suddenly there came the sound of a loud explosion and the arrow misfired. When the Avengers looked back they saw that their teammate Hawkeye was very suddenly missing a head. What remained of his old one was separated from his lower palette and scattered over the pavement.

Colonel America was furious and he searched around for their sharpshooter. "Where did that come from!? Where did that come from!?"

"I don't know!" Captain Britain snapped as he took to the sky for a better view. "Wait, I think I see something."

From the mound's peak leading to the shallow basin where the assembled forces were gathered another figure joined the mighty count: a young blonde-haired girl adorned in a police uniform and bearing a rifle that a tank would struggle carrying. She smiled, pleased with the good work she had done and with red, hungry eyes seeking approval she turned to the dark horseman.

"Did I do good, Master?" she seemed to softly squeal.

The vampire's old face cracked a satisfied smile. "You have done very well, Seras Victoria. I am pleased with your efforts."

Her dead heart swelled knowing that she had made her master feel this way and she was left giddy at his acknowledgment of her name. When once he called her 'Police Girl' she was now addressed as Seras Victoria. He recognised and respected her and nothing could make her happier. "Thank you, Master!"

"I would ask but one last thing of you," he said. Dracula raised his sword above his head, encouraging a mighty and bloody roar from his army. He spoke with a deep tone that boomed over them all. "My minions! Gather together and advance! Go forth and kill! Kill! You will _kill_! Leave nothing standing! Send the dead back to the dirt where they _belong_!"

* * *

**TO BE CONTINUED...**


	10. Part 8

**PART EIGHT**

* * *

**Elsewhere  
Elsewhen**

"Master?"

The last thing she remembered was the cold and dark. The weight of her body slipped from underneath and her spirit was sent spiraling downwards this way and that to regions unknown. Seras Victoria wondered as she died, do vampires go Heaven or was she damned for the crime of being inhuman?

Gradually she slowed, her form becoming more solid as she became aware. She wasn't falling as much as she was resting weightlessly in the void. Surrounding her wasn't so much darkness as it was the absence of anything, living or dead, large or minute. In time she came to realise she was all there was in this strange new universe. Could have this been Purgatory?

Suddenly she jumped as she felt a soft cushion of a theatre seat encompass her behind. In no longer than it took for her to recognise the sensation than the rest of the environment appeared before her: a grand hall with high balconies lined with marble and gold trim. Before her was a stage wider than she'd ever witnessed and from behind the thick, red velvet curtain came the sounds of a scene being set.

Seras stood, only just realising the thousands of patrons around her: men, women and children with dead, white eyes from an unknown time and place hissing for her to be seated. She could not do that, not without knowing. "Master! Master, are you there? Please, Master!"

The abrupt silence was deafening, as if sound itself had suddenly ceased to ever be. She paused and sat among the bodies frozen as they looked ahead. The lights dimmed and there came a voice, calm and welcoming. "Ladies and gentlemen, our feature presentation."

When the curtains slowly drew open there was a blinding light from a formless entity babbling like a brook. Thousands of words and ideas spilled from it's un-mouth as it strolled, rolled, galloped through it's performance.

Seras had a hard time making out the words. She leaned closer to listen, but soon though they would destroy her mind. They melded together as one: a single entity given a million different shapes.

"_What...?" "Huh huh, you said... butt." "I'm not even supposed to be here today!" "I think they calls it... foods library." "What... do you like to play?" "I am Cornholio!" "With the lights out it's less dangerous!" "I hate cute! I want photos! Photos of Spider-Man!" "And now you know..." "I need TP for my bunghole!" "Here we are now! Entertain us!" "...And knowing is half the battle!" "All your base are belong to us!" "Y'see, the kids, they listen to the rap, which gives them the brain damage..." "Did I do that?" "I feel stupid and contagious!" "With their hippin' and the hoppin' and the bippin' and the boppin'..." "Ugh, that's brutal. I need like a hundred beers." "What's a nubean?" "Here we are now! Entertain us!" "Did I do that?" "So they don't know what the jazz is all about!" "Can I have a hundred beers, please?" "Pleased to meet you, Rose." "Did I do that?" "Exactly... one hundred beers." "Run for your life!"_

"Quiet! Please, just shut up!" The house lights had returned and the seats around her were empty, as was the stage. In the brief second it took to scan her surroundings a familiar figure draped in red stood in the centre of the main platform. Her eyes lit up at the sight of him. "Master!"

'Alucard' looked out to the empty auditorium and let loose a cheesy grin. He snickered as he leaned against the microphone stand and addressed an invisible crowd in a voice not his own. "So, anyways, I donated blood the other day. Not mine!"

"Master?" Seras Victoria was confused as she watched his display and was alarmed when canned laughter echoed from nowhere. There was something very wrong with him: more than the fact that he was not her master.

He smiled as he danced around. "You guys wanna see me donate some blood to _you?_ Huh? Do ya? Okay!"

Seras watched in confusion as he dragged a thick hose from off of the stage and opened the valve releasing wave after wave of red liquid into the stands. The impostor laughed cruelly as he let it wash over everything, then turned to Seras to shower her in it. Though she was a vampire the sight of this performance was vulgar to her at best.

After being overtaken by the blanket of red she then saw white. It was the same nothing as before but in a different colour (or something of the like she couldn't describe.) Not knowing what else to do she called out to the void. "Hello! Is anybody there?"

Loud trombones played with a brass and string band as a large, muscular, steroid-pumped man danced around wearing a Colonel America uniform. He waved his arms with pom poms in each hand as he chanted: "Vote for me! Vote for me! I am ze Governator! I'll back back! I raise your tax! Vote for ze oil! Vote for ze groping and vote for me!"

Seras shook, taken aback by the strange sight before her. She tried to say no thank you, that she wasn't interested and that as a dead person, not to mention a dead English person that American state politics really was of no interest to her. She tried to say that, but instead she came out with "Er..."

From behind her came the sound of metal claws and an animalistic yellow and black garbed zombie standing only two feet tall stalked towards her. "Hey, bub. I'm the best there is at what I do, bub. And what I do, bub, is knit baby clothes, bub."

"Vote for ze Hitler!"

"Bub. Bub. Bub." She looked down to see one picketing while the other knitted little vests and booties. The sight left her questioning herself. Had she died and gone to a mental asylum? Perhaps she'd been reincarnated as a character in a terrible story: it was impossible to tell.

"Excuse me, I..."

"I pledge allegiance to ze flag of ze United States of the Forth Reich unt flying shnitzel houzen!" Governor America growled. "Let me try again... un tagen. I pledge allegiance to ze flag... and ze boobies of Cow-lee-faw-nee-ah! Cowleefawneea! I am ze governator of Cowleefawneea!"

Seras gasped tiredly. "This is madness."

"Madness?" he railed. "Zis is Cowleefawneea!"

"I just want to get out of... ow!" No sooner had she turned her back than a number of miniature zombies leapt on her, gnawing at her skin with toothless mouths. As their gums clamped down they each yelled out on chorus, 'ah, num num num! Ah, num num num!' Seras wanted to scream. "Get off of me! All of you!"

"Seras Victoria!" The authority in his voice caused for the little zombies to fall and roll awkwardly away. She was taken in by the sound, the deep tone unique to her master.

"I am here, Master," she said.

His smile could be heard all the way from the mortal plane. "You are needed, Seras Victoria. Come forth and join me so that we may fight side by side in glorious battle!"

"But... Master... I am dead! My heart was pierced and my body is dust!"

Alucard laughed off this foolish notion. "Worry not, Police Girl. You and I are bound by blood. As my servant you are under my protection. Though your body has fallen your spirit is still joined to me and to this battle. Now, rise!"

"Yes, Master!" she cried as a supernatural light reached down and took her.

* * *

**NOW**

"Forget the footsoldiers! Cut them down and take out Alucard! The rest will fall soon after!"

The Avengers and their undead allies pushed against the raging sea of former humanity waving their heavy swords violently against them. Though they battled fervently they were still limited in the face of their enemy, possessing only a few of the powers of the nosferatu that their master shared amongst them. Metal crashed against metal and bone as swords snapped and limbs were pulled from their hosts.

"There's too many of them!" She-Hulk struck against the tide of bodies, each strafe of her mighty fists causing for them to fly back and to the sides. Taking bites from them she quickly discovered like the rest that the enemy was cold and tasteless like they were chewing on paper. They provided no sustenance at all. "These guys taste like crap!"

"Keep your mind on the job! Not on your stomach!" Colonel America bellowed as he sliced through them two by two. His own hunger was setting in, the nagging hollow void inside aching to be filled ever itching in the far most corners of his mind. The warriors before him were nothing as he used his shield as a battering ram to plough his way through. He was fighting on instinct, years of training honed into habit while the real battle for self-control raged within.

In the briefest of glimpses he looked to his surroundings and watched the progress of his teammates. The Phoenix cut through them with a wall of cleansing fire. Thor bowled them away by the dozens and made the Earth tremble. Meggan ducked and weaved between them like a snake, strangling their necks and popping their heads like bad acne, while Giant Man simply kicked them away as they amassed at his base.

"Thor! Miss Marvel! Captain Britain!" he roared as he reached a clearing. "Fly over them and take out the leader!"

The zombies didn't hesitate to follow orders. They wanted this done with just as he did. Within seconds they were in the air, the three of them of them charging at the vampire king. He was just sitting on his black stallion, looking down from on high and it caused for them to scoff. It was vulgar of him to be so nonchalant while an army was slaughtered in his honour.

A nearby blast threw Miss Marvel off course: it was Seras Victoria once more wielding her twin Harkonnens. One look between Thor and Captain Britain and a plan was formed. The god of thunder advanced while England's former patriot hero saw to the girl on the ground.

She smiled as Captain Britain descended on her. The Union Jack spread across his chest was practically a target, though she hadn't counted on how fast he was. Shooting a vampire was one thing, but successfully hitting an undead superhuman was something else entirely.

"Give it up!" he roared as he slapped the cannons away from her. They fell to the ground heavily. With one hand the Captain choked her neck and lifted her from the ground. "What are you smiling at, girl? Just because we can't eat you doesn't mean we aren't going to kill you."

She smiled widely with the mouth of the demon that had overcome her. Reaching back she drew her handgun only to see it quickly snapped away along with the arm holding it.

"You should have stayed dead."

"You should have learned to control your appetite," she remarked as she struggled. From her bloody stump erupted a torrent of shadow, splashing over his chest and forming a solid blade with the power of a true vampire's dark magic. With a crunch it pierced Captain Britain's corpse and with a hard jerk sliced through the rotten, soggy flesh from torso to head. The sides of his brain separated, he fell to the ground and would not rise again.

Seras beamed. As bloody and pointless as war was she could not help but wear her victory with pride. Truly the battlefield was a playground for monsters.

Meanwhile Thor did not deviate from his target. Mjolnir hurtled him forward, aimed squarely for Dracula's sinister grin. When finally he came close enough that he could see the whites of the vampire's eyes he raised his hammer high and brought it down with a force that could make cities crumble.

The vampire king held it off, wrestling him back with his broadsword through sheer strength and will. Though powerful, he did not share the physical might of an earthbound god, even one whose body was decaying. Dracula was thrown from his horse and to the mud where he quickly rolled to avoid the hammer's drop. He fought his way to his feet and battled with all of his speed and agility, but blow for blow neither made any progress. They had reached a stalemate.

"You would fight me here in the dirt like a dog," he muttered with contempt. "This is not a fitting battle for gods and monsters! Or have you lost your pride with your life?"

Thor shifted his stance to show it was a hammer and not a streetlight that he wielded. His fetid features contorted in fury and he said "Nay!"

The undead king was pleased with this knowledge and a contented smile graced his lips. His tattered cloak was torn to shreds as the shadows beneath took shape, forming giant bad-like wings which stretched many times the size of his reach. Looking to Thor his eyes dared him to follow and with one great flap he took to the sky, racing towards the full moon above.

With a foul grimace the thunder god pointed upward and hurtled afterward. His will channeled through his hammer gathered dark, thundering clouds from all directions, rumbling furiously as it set the stage for an awesome battle. Dracula was consumed by the dark wisps, the air heavy with condensation burning his lungs like hellfire. Thor followed swiftly and from the ground could be heard his unearthly roar as he charged in with the first blow.

From the small patch he had claimed Colonel America took a moment to look above. Even the vampires feared to approach as the pile of bodies surrounding him served as a warning to any who would dare come close. Though he did not notice his would be attackers: his senses were clouded by starvation, hunger and pure unadulterated hate. He breathed in heavily through the sinew of his collapsed nostrils and cried out to all who could hear. "Alucard!"

* * *

Walter C. Dornez walked down the cold, brick hall. It was silent and still: every soldier had clamoured into a room with a screen, any screen, to bare witness to supernatural war above them. Though for Walter there was no need. He was prepared for it's end, no matter which may come to pass. Instead he chose to temporarily abandon his command and sit by his Master's side. They had little need for him in the control room, anyway.

"I'm here, sir," he said as he stood at the doorway. Integra's neck was heavily bandaged and bag after bag of blood was being fed back into her system. It was disheartening to see her body so weak but Walter knew it did not reflect her spirit, her courage, her strength of will. She lay before him not a victim, but a brave leader who had for the first time encountered one of the deadlier pitfalls of her profession. Walter had seen many die, many in a manner far less dignified.

To look at her he could still see that same, stubborn little girl with eyes blazing the same as her father's. She had the same ironclad resolve and while she could have grown selfish and spoilt she instead grew to be bold, proud and graceful. In the back of his mind he could almost hear her ask what news came from the topside.

"The battle continues, sir," he spoke. "Alucard has released the zero seal and returned Seras Victoria into the battle. It is quite remarkable. In fact I would even say... it's glorious."

Perhaps he was imagining or perhaps he was the only was the only one who could see such a slight smile on her comatose lips held open by the thick oxygen pipe. Walter leaned in closer and inspected her. Underneath her eyelids was a lot of rapid movement as if she were dreaming. Again, he wondered.

"Can you feel him, sir?" he asked in barely a whisper. "Once, many years ago he drank of your blood. Are your spirits joined? Are the two of you bound to this experience? Do you see as he sees?"

Even in her silent, subtle, subconscious state she refused him an answer. He could not even see the answers that he wanted to see, only that she wished to be alone so she might dream. Walter bowed his head and replaced his monocle, bidding her a fair sleep.

"As you wish, sir," he said as he walked out of the room. No doubt somebody would want him at the command post where he could share a large serving of helplessness with the rest. He huffed at the thought: what senseless dramas come with doomsday.

* * *

The war seemed to mimic the epic clash above. With each blow between the former deity and the damned the tide turned, empowered by the roars and strikes like rolling thunder. Suddenly every warrior, vampire and zombie turned when there came an indecipherable scream from the Heavens above. What followed was silence. The storm clouds eased and every eye watched, breath baited in pregnant pause, waiting to learn the outcome of the battle.

Colonel America watched intently, stretching out his neck as if it were to reach into the sky and allow him clear view. From the wisps in the sky a black speck appeared, falling to the ground at terminal velocity. He wiped the fetid drool from his chin and fought with himself: fought to focus on the task at hand. Whose body fell? He had to know.

With a heavy crash the body landed, covered in blood from head to toe. From underneath the coat of red lay Dracula, his large wings torn to shreds. He gasped for breath, his lungs punctured and torn. His ability to heal had been greatly exhausted in the battle where all he had was dark magic against the power of a hungry, unforgiving god.

"Master?" Seras Victoria looked on from her perch, unable to believe her eyes. That could not truly be Dracula crawling on the ground on the verge of defeat. Her unbeating heart sunk with despair. "Master!"

The Colonel was dumbfounded. With Dracula defeated there was nothing left to stand in their way. The horror to literally end all horrors had fallen. He raised his shield victoriously. "We did it, Avengers! We did it! The vampire king is dead!"

In a savage chorus the zombies hissed and proceeded to remove head after head with their weapons or just the strength of their mighty hands. Through the slaughter they called and howled, celebrating for their triumph. Then came another pair of specs tumbling from the sky above.

Seras Victoria spied them through her grief curiously, Colonel America gazed at them suspiciously while the zombies and the vampires were happy to remain ignorant and tear each other to pieces. When came the thick boom against the Earth they turned and were presented with the body of Thor removed from it's head. His other remains had fallen in the distance, many miles away.

Coated in blood Dracula began to cackle, amused by the absurdity of what surrounded him. Yes, he was tired. The truth was he had always been tired, but never in his days would he ever allow himself to be defeated by something so pathetic. His skin cracked and stung as it twisted into a smile. What a pleasant sensation, he thought. It was almost like being alive again. Death was so close he could taste it, but he would not accept. He refused to take it unless God came down and offered it himself.

"This is... getting stupid..." He was beginning to lose his temper. Colonel America's hunger was growing, tearing him apart from the inside. Anything keeping him from a struggling meal was something to be hated and had to destroy, no matter the cost. "Finish him!"

"No." Raising the cannon over her shoulder Sears opened fire, driving the zombies back from her master with a wall of cleansing flame. The air bent on the rising heat and through it she saw a tender smile meant just for her. She would protect him forever for the things he had done and he knew it.

Though taking her mind away from the battlefield would prove a fatal mistake. From behind Giant Man's hand grasped her and lifted her from the ground, crushing her in his grip. The late superhero peered at her with thinning, pale pupils. It was hard to imagine that one puny vampire could have caused them so much trouble.

"Pym! Don't play with your goddamn food!" Colonel America ordered furiously. "Eat her! Eat her now!"

It didn't matter that she wouldn't taste very good. Like the rest of the zombies he just wanted something, anything to fill the empty nagging chasm inside his stomach. His mouth opened wide, revealing the black pit to which Seras Victoria's new body would be descending.

"Master! Master, please! Help me!" As much as she called out he was powerless to help her. All he saw was a pool of red as the blood filled his eyes. Her master was at his last and so was she and as her unlife ended Seras Victoria was forced to watch the zombies fight through the fire and deliver the killing blow.

* * *

The image was clear and crisp. Highlighted by the sickly green tint of the telescopic nightvision lense the satellite caught it's first picture through the stormclouds. It painted a very grim portrait and lead to only one conclusion. Alucard had been defeated. The zombies had won. Though they were still contained within London and there was one last chance to strike.

Nick Fury hesitated. The decision was there before him, clear as day and he knew it had to be made, though he couldn't. There were times when as director of SHIELD it was his duty to ignore his conscience and in the end he'd find a way to get over it, but this time around he choked on the idea, gritted his teeth and looked to the monitor as if staring it down would cause it to change.

Almost as if reading his mind the young SHIELD soldier assisting him decided to make himself known. His voice stuttered nervously. "S-sir... London still hasn't been fully evacuated. By our count there are still several thousand people making their way south along the outskirts, well within the eighty mile blast radius."

Thanks, kid, he thought acidically in his direction. The last thing Fury needed was to be reminded out loud of the mortal cost that his decisions would take. Still he swallowed it and did what he had to do, reasoning that if he didn't take drastic measures then all of those 'survivors' would be monster food anyway.

"Are we in position?" he coughed through his own bile. Sorry, kid, he thought, but those morals of yours would only get us killed.

"Two minutes, sir," came the report from below his platform.

"Then it's official. Prepare the orbital strike." The thought weighed down on Fury. Usually he'd wait for a Presidential order before drawing out the 'Star Wars' arsenal, but the President was dead. The chiefs of staff were dead. Nearly every city in world was dead. Dead. Dead. Dead.

"Sir!" The young officer protested out of place. He was alarmed when the red lights flooded the room, every station preparing for the final, climactic blow.

"What's it going to be, kid? A few civilian casualties or the extinction of all mankind?" He lit the tip of the cigar bitten between his teeth. The inhalation of smoke took the edge off and made his cajones look ten times bigger as he peered into the young man's soul. "You've got a good heart. How the hell did you made it into SHIELD in the first place?"

The question lingered as the countdown began, numbers falling backward on the side screens. "One minute and fifteen! ... One minute and five! ..."

Nick Fury blinked tiredly, his eyelids crashing together like steel doors. Soon it would all be over and he'd be able to learn how to live with himself all over again.

* * *

**TO BE CONTINUED...**


	11. Part 9

**PART NINE**

* * *

There are times in life that leave you forever changed. Something profound will happen and nothing will be the same again. Life is divided in two halves and all that remains is the memory of the person you were and the reality of the person you have become. Nick Fury's life changed on a daily basis. He had made an unfortunate habit of surviving against all odds, enduring all manner of horrors and being the last man standing to pick up all the pieces.

That was his existence. Countless times he'd compromised himself in the name of a greater good and countless others he'd refused for the same reason. He was so far down the line that he'd almost forgotten where he began. It was for that reason alone that he was able to play the devil the day the world went to hell.

"Five." Nobody blinked. Everyone was transfixed to their screens, paused anxiously in suspended dread. "Four." They knew what was coming, and though it was their own finger was pulling the trigger they were powerless to stop it. "Three." Every one of them in the room were loyal to SHIELD over their family, their friends: everything. If they weren't they wouldn't be there. They would do anything Nick Fury asked of them. "Two." This was how it felt when Berlin was crushed or when the Enola Gay took off for Japan. They would have their victory, no matter the cost. "One."

"Deploy the missile."

On his word the wheels were set in motion. High above them radio signals reached an obscure Russian satellite, ordering it to set loose the nuclear payload it would carry to the city of London below. Upon detonation a force would be released that would blow to pieces anything in it's path, tear flesh from bones and crackle skin into ash in an instant. Remaining would be a dirty Earth: a small patch where no life could flourish. It would be a literal chasm of death and all who would entered would join those who lay there.

Fury threw his cigar to one side. It was useless to him now. As much as the rich taste of the smoke eased him he didn't much feel like relaxing. The job was done and so was he.

"Sir?" The young soldier who'd followed him earlier could see guilt weighing down on his commander's heavy brow.

With a sigh he turned to the room, grimly making a parting speech before he went and lost himself in the bottom of a bottle. "Men, women, we did it. The job is done. May God have mercy on their souls, because we sure as hell didn't."

* * *

"Master! Master, please! Help me!"

Giant-Man's jowls hung open before her, threatening to swallow her down into his acidic gut with one nasty gulp. This was the third time that Seras Victoria would face death, though this time would be far less dignified than the others. The chasm leading down was black, rank and foul with death.

Her master was gone. It was he who allowed her to continue: gave her a driving force when there was nothing else. Now she screamed for him in her final moment and she was sickened by it. The pride of the beast welled up inside her, flaring her demonic red eyes with the power of the nosferatu bestowed upon her. Seras Victoria's final moments wouldn't be those of a helpless victim: she began to hack and tear at the giant hero's thumb.

"Quit it!" His grip tightened around her, snapping bones and piercing organs. Her cry wasn't that of someone in pain, but rather someone frustrated by a great deterrence. She would never surrender to death: not while her master lay on the dirt before her. If only he could see.

"Master!" It was no longer a plea. It was an order for him to stand. "Master!"

The Sentinel of Liberty charged through the fire, his shield held in front of him. Even if it did burn he could no longer feel the pain. In it's place was just the hunger that drove him as it did the thrall of superpowered zombies following him. With wild eyes and outstretched arms he held his weapon high and struggled to maintain a single cohesive thought. "Die, Alucard! Die!"

Dracula looked from the dirt mount he laid in: the spot his enemies had chosen to become his deathbed. From there he saw past the Colonel and his Avengers, beyond the weapons lingering to inflict the killing blow and saw his loyal servant clutched in the grasp of a mindless beast. He could hear her shouting, calling, commanding for him to rise. It was the power of her spirit that inspired him from his place, that put a grim sneer on his face.

"Do not order me, police girl," he hissed proudly. "I am your count... I am your king!"

From beneath his blanket of gore he did again transform, a swarm of bats flying upwards and into Giant-Man's mouth. With a look of surprise and shock did the ex-hero fall as they punched through his brain and out the other side of his skull with the force of a thousand cannon balls. Limp on the ground Seras Victoria pried herself free from the hand and took once more to safer ground to regroup: the zombies were entirely focused on her master.

Colonel America charged, leading the Avengers as they scaled Giant-Man's horizontal form with ease. It hardly seemed to bother them that one of their own was ended so easily: only that an enemy still stood before them. Perhaps if their hunger were sated they would have the capacity for grief but for now they had another goal. The Colonel was furious. "You are king of nothing! You... are king... of _nothing!"_

The bats pulled together once more and into a single solid shape, back into the form of Alucard. He was not adorned in his usual suit and long flowing coat: rather in a costume of black where his body was bound tightly and his dark hair flowed freely over it. The zombies seemed little concern for him now as he drank in the vision of the battlefield and his fallen army.

"You fought well," he lamented to his followers. Some were his soldiers by choice, many were not. Still they were all a part of him and for that he payed them tribute. "Return to me." The hundreds of corpses melted into shadows and crawled along the ground, once more rejoining Alucard as a seamless patch on his tight-fitted costume.

"Give it up," hissed the zombie leader. Behind him stood the Wasp, Meggan, Miss Marvel, the Phoenix, She-Hulk and what remained of Luke Cage. Though their numbers were significantly reduced they were still more potent and more powerful than any army ever assembled.

Alucard laughed, almost paying the idle warning no heed at all. His amusement continued to bewilder them, but it was a moot point. He still stood and he needed to die. "How utterly marvelous! It amazes me that filth as stupid as yourself continues to exist! One by one I have cut you down and still you come, determined to end me!"

Colonel America didn't flinch. "You're weak."

"Then finish me off," he taunted. "Come on! Hurry up! The end of the world is growing impatient! Hurry!" The wicked grin didn't part from Alucard's lips for even a moment. Was he capable of anything else? War seemed to bring him such constant and sorrowful joy.

"I'm really getting sick of this guy!" They converged as the starving Phoenix took the lead. A bright wall of unyielding concussive force lashed out at Alucard in numerous savage licks, tearing away shards of his clothes and skin. As usual Alucard didn't evade the blows and as such quickly reformed to his native state.

His nose turned up at Rachel Summers. "You, who once commanded life and death, who still hold a shard of the greatest power of all. It's so pathetic that you of all people should be resigned to such a fate..."

"Shut! Up!" Her power blanketed the area, breaking away at masonry, removing the roofs from cars, yet not once striking her enemy. Instead the vampire just seemed to dance around her attack, phasing in and out between the flame-like tongues and growing ever closer.

"For shame," he moaned as he appeared before her. Alucard's blackened form loomed over her ominously. His eyes were those of an animal: more beast than any of them could hope to be, regardless of how many they'd killed. It was then that the Phoenix saw his intent and for the first time since being overtaken by the hunger she was filled with fear.

"Please," she gasped ever so quietly. Alucard was the only one to hear her. She had no heartbeat to listen to or any other means to have her feelings read than the faint twinkle in the windows to her soul. Rachel Summers knew that she had become a monster against her will, and though the meat tasted so good she was filled with regret. She didn't deserve to live but she didn't want to die. Her eyes pleaded with Alucard: surely with all of his power he could end it somehow.

Dark magic turned Alucard's body into solid shadow: a walking black chasm from where not even light could escape, shaped like a man with a smiling head atop. From the inky depths appeared the eyes, wide and colourless, not so much seen as they were felt: assessing, estimating, judging. They were cold and cruel and from them emerged the disembodied head of a savage, hungry hellhound. Baskerville leaped out and enveloped the Phoenix from her head down to her torso, biting it clean from her lower half with sharp, pearly teeth.

The zombies watched her legs fall limp to the ground as the dog bucked it's head and snapped, letting torn chunks of their teammate fall back down his neck. Alucard beamed: he was a walking patchwork of horrors, greater than the sum of all their fears. They stood terrified, knowing that no matter how much they'd bite, claw, slice or chop that he would see them as little more than dog food.

Their minds were made simple as they were clouded by hunger. Any thought that crossed their barren psyche was no more than primal. They were strong, he was stronger. He was the predator, clever and calculating, while they were desperate and starving. Left with no other option they all ran: all except for Colonel America. That lone zombie stood and faced him down. For him there was no running and even when functioning on basic instinct the notion of fleeing never occurred to him.

"Run," Alucard ordered him. "Run!" The Colonel stood there, transfixed. All he knew to do anymore was kill and that the vampire before him was harder to kill than anything he'd ever faced before. Alucard could read it in his bestial eyes and smiled. "Seras Victoria!"

Hopping to position the police girl looked down from her vantage. The heavy twin cannons were positioned skillfully on her shoulders as she took aim of the fleeing corpses. Blasts poured from the giant barrels, an extension of her killer instinct. _Aim for the head. One shot, one kill, _she thought gleefully. The challenge excited her.

"You're all alone, Colonel," he taunted. "What are you going to do? Are you going to piss your pants? Pray to your impotent god? Not that he would ever forgive you. Forgiveness is a gift given to men, not monsters." His eyes calmed. The war was over. All that remained was the finishing stroke. "Are you going to cry out 'Avengers assemble', hoping they fall back into line? Go on. Say it..."

"I... I..."

Alucard watched him stammer and stagger, fighting his own senses for some semblance of order. He couldn't help but laugh. "Why don't you surrender? Oh, I forgot. That's not what the letter on your forehead stands for."

Colonel America trembled, but not out of fear or panic. He was too far gone for that. "I... I'm going... to kill you..."

"What was that?" His brow cocked as did his crooked smirk.

"I'm... going to kill you," he growled. "Avengers... or no Avengers... I'm _going to kill you!"_

* * *

In the space between light and dark, warm and cold, joy and melancholy did she sit, waiting patiently for her name to once more appear in the great book of life. Integra Wingates Hellsing felt strange: she could not feel her body. The room she sat in was entirely unfamiliar, assuming it was even a room. What time was it? She struggled as she searched her memory. Didn't she usually have assistants to annoy her with those sorts of trivial matters?

"Is there something the matter, sir?" Who was this man? She knew his name was Walter C. Dornez and that he had served as a retainer to the Hellsing family, but why did he come to her? It was only then that she realised who she was, that she had inherited her father's place and was now an important figurehead in the Protestant church. After a moments deliberation she had also decided on her age, clothing and facial expression as she addressed him.

"I'm not sure, Walter," she said, making sure to repeat his name so she might remember it. "Where am I?"

"Why, you are where you always have been. You are in a seat of great power under the Queen and Almighty God." That wasn't what she'd meant. She wanted to know literally where she was as well as the reason for Walter's wearing a maid uniform. Though that didn't seem important: it was a matter for God to judge. What was she thinking? Of course. "You are resting, sir. There has been an unfortunate incident which requires for you to temporarily forgo your duty."

As he spoke the room came clear to view. She was indeed lying in a hospital bed, a tube forced uncomfortably down her throat and something heavy tied around her neck. Hard as she tried she couldn't move her arms and legs and her vision was in broken frames. Objects seemed to echo and slide as her vision shifted. Upon thought she realised she was not looking with eyes and didn't want to think about it.

"Walter?" He was gone, just as suddenly as he'd appeared. Closing her eyes she could feel the darkness wash over her, weighing heavily on her heart. She was compelled to stand but was still left crippled without explanation. Though she denied this and appealed to her disinterested limbs. There was destruction above and she was needed: she still had a hand to play in the end of civilisation.

"Integra." The voice soothed her and eased the pressure she felt over her neck. It didn't speak to her with the air of subordination she would have expected in her own command post. Looking around and seeing nobody she realised that she was either dreaming or no longer in her own body.

"Who's there?" Suddenly she was a little girl again and only realised it when she heard the squeak of her voice. Trying to sound authoritative given the circumstances seemed silly, but she was still head of the Hellsing family and would do just that.

"Do not be afraid," it said stepping from the gloom. The person garbed in white was neither man nor woman and he/she smiled on Integra with an overwhelming sense of peace. Leaning to her side it smiled, encompassing her with it's pale blue eyes.

It wasn't the first time Integra had faced the supernatural and she'd made it habit to be suspicious. Yet in the face of the being before her she felt that she was easily losing her composure. "Are you an angel? Am... am I dead?"

"Yes and no, to both questions," it said easily as it reached for her hand. She reached out and their palms connected. "Heaven is waiting for you, Integra, and soon your new home back here in Earth. Leave your anger and your woes. Come with me."

A stream of silent tears rolled down her cheeks. For the first time it was alright for her to not be angry anymore: it seemed pointless. She could see the scars on it's wings and she realised to greater sorrow how many other souls it must have escorted to the next life those past few days. Though regardless of the pain she saw it smile and through it beamed God's love.

"I can't," she said, suddenly once more an adult, once more dressed in her dark coat with a lit cigarette between her fingers. "It is not yet over. The world cannot end: not like this."

The divine being smiled and stepped away, leaving her strapped down and confined in her bed. It needn't have said anything: those calms eyes assured her that Heaven was eternal and that it would still be there waiting for her when the time came. The difficult path she continued to travel was only a sign of her devotion and with that he left her.

Sir Integra Wingates Hellsing lay silently in her bed with a machine aiding her shallow breaths. For now she was calm, placid and completely unaware of what stalked the hallways outside her room.

* * *

Alucard ducked and weaved as the shield swiped brutally at him with Colonel America's full force. The display was amusing, like fighting a clown. Every one of the zombie's limbs flailed wildly, desperate for a strike. Usually the best torture Hellsing's dog had for an enemy was to accept the blows just to show them how futile they were, but that idea would be wasted on something that only served to grow more stupid with every hungering moment.

"Why won't you let me hit you!?" he screamed. "You let us hit you before! Why won't you let me hit you now!? Why!?"

"Say 'please'." This only inspired anger and more fervent, futile attacks. Alucard mused at the foolishness of Colonel America. How great a force the Avengers once were and now they were only one. The rest were being picked off like flies in the heat of distant explosions. It was ever so sweet like lambs to the slaughter.

Seras Victoria paused and looked up. She had wondered why the zombies weren't fighting back and now she knew why. It wasn't a star that burned so brightly as the distant inkling of morning cracked. It raged towards them, an enemy weapon clear in the empty sky. She knew what it was and gasped, "Master!"

Alucard and Colonel America paused in their battle only to look up and recognise the missile's approach. Suddenly all thoughts of victory and hatred raced from Colonel America's simple mind and he turned, running for cover. Furious at the oncoming assault Alucard threw his arms up in outrage. "No! This is my kill! _My_ kill! You don't get to take this away from me!"

"Master! What do I do?" The former police girl stood mesmerised. What could she do as something with the force of God's angry fist struck at the world? Though she knew it was less holy than that: it was more akin to mankind's poison arrow.

Ignoring her completely Alucard practically leapt on all fours like a wild dog on the hunt, driven to take down such a despised foe. He would not be robbed of this: not by Nick Fury, not by God. With mankind on the verge of being wiped clean from the world all he had was his pride.

"You... are mine!" He pounced, bowling the Colonel from his feet and grinding face first into the dirt. Alucard pulled his head back, probably snapped his neck so that he could look him in the eye as he consumed him. "No you know the fear, Colonel. This... is what it's like... to be hunted..."

As his jaws hung wide open, revealing the vampire's glistening white teeth, a wave of bright burning white struck them. With the heat of an exploding sun the city of London was leveled to ash and cinders, then spread for miles around. Whether or not Alucard had claimed his victory or not was meaningless. Nothing could have survived such a blast.

* * *

**TO BE CONCLUDED...**


	12. Part 10 Epilogue

**PART TEN**

* * *

The Earth trembled as the righteous force struck the ground, leveling the land above for miles. Deep within the subterranean compound the united forces of Great Britain's round table, under the command of Hellsing's retainer, Walter C. Dornez, were shaken by the blow and were paused when the lights shorted out. They sat patiently, waiting for the emergency generators to activate. After half a minute it was evident that was not going to happen. 

"Leftenant?"

"Yes, sir," came a nearby response from the pitch black.

"Assemble a team and see to the power," Walter ordered impatiently. "You are also to take immediate command and should you come across anyone of higher rank you are to relinquish that command to them. Is that understood?"

"Y-yes, sir," came his stuttered reply. He hesitated in asking his next question. "Sir, what should I tell him when I do relinquish command?"

"Tell them that I have more important things to do than fiddle around in the dark." His voice was distant. He was already halfway across the room towards the exit when he gave the order.

Walter's heart was racing. With the power out the machines maintaining Integra's life support wouldn't be active. He couldn't just leave her that way, alone to die. She needed him by her side whether she realised he was there or not.

Half a lifetime of hunting and fighting in the dark made his navigation easier. The halls were committed to his memory the very moment he'd stepped through them, from their length, width to their very smell.

As he approached his master's room he was given pause: the ground was slippery. He sniffed the air and took in the familiar odour while he knelt down and placed a finger in the warm pool at his feet. Suddenly Walter was overcome with horror. "Blood."

It was at that moment that the emergency lights came on, washing the path in a dim red light. Before him lay the bodies of a number of soldiers, their meat picked clean from their bones in much the same way they would be left after a zombie attack. Quickly recomposing himself he looked to the trail of wet, glistening footprints on the ground.

Walter charged down the hall, the fear making him more dangerous than ever. The life of Sir Integra had already been threatened once that night and he would not allow for it to happen again. He had seen her into this world and would not allow her to leave it while he drew breathe.

His heart sank when he arrived at the doorway. What he saw he could hardly believe. There lay Integra Wingates Hellsing, her body torn to pieces and her bones discarded across the room. Sitting on her knees in his master's bed was a girl in a tight costume belonging to the X-Men. She held Integra's head by her long, flowing blonde hair and bit away at chunks of flesh from her neck upwards.

The butler choked at the sight and almost lost his footing. The proud woman he'd raised for half of her life, whom he'd almost come to love as a daughter, whom he'd cared for day and night was now a meager meal for a savage beast. He couldn't help but see the look on his master's face, her mouth hanging open helplessly. She'd laid there that entire time and never even had the chance to open her eyes.

Kitty Pride looked back, only then just noticing Walter. She dropped the head and wore a guilty expression over her bloodstained lips as if she were a small child caught stealing a raspberry tart. Perhaps it was that her hunger had for a time been sated or that she still hadn't come to terms with her new nature, but the young agent of Excalibur looked to him with sorrow.

"I'm so sorry," she gasped.

"No," Walter said defiantly in complete disbelief. Aggression boiled and steamed inside him as the hair-thin razor wires he had concealed fell to his side. He seethed at her, "Though you will be soon enough."

* * *

"Master! Orders! Master!" 

Once there stood the city of London, an old place full of stories and history. It was a landmark on the British map and boasted a unique world of culture. Alucard stood where it once was, but now was nothing.

"Master!" He cried out feebly. Where was she? She couldn't feel him in his mind. Their connection had been cut. She was all their was that gave him direction in this mad place. "Master! I need orders!"

The sky was blackened with smoke and ash fell like snow. What were once buildings were completely broken. Beams had snapped and burned, girders had melted and brick was pulverised to dust. Any trace of the great city was but a memory and a graveyard for those who mightn't have escaped.

Alucard shuffled his feet through the thin, sandy blanket coating the scorched Earth. No longer did he have the strength to lift them or to hold his head up high. Had his greatest nightmare come true? Had everybody died and left him alone to wander? He'd stated several times that there was nothing immortal in this world, but his sadness had forced him to reconsider.

His thoughts drifted to the missile. Somewhere a man with a button pressed down, releasing blighted death on this place. He wondered, "Is it really so terrible that you would end everything just to escape your fear?" The thought made him sick. Such weakness: why then would God show _them_ such favour?

From under the debris came another survivor. Luke Cage threw the dirt and rocks to one side and fought his way through the tattered yellow remains of his shirt. He growled at first, then began spitting out mouthfuls of sand. Laughing like a maniac he celebrated. "I'm... alive! Yeah!" It took him a moment to realise Alucard was across the clearing in plain view. "Aww, hell no..."

"He won't hurt you," She-Hulk spat. Clutching at her stomach she breathed heavily, trying to hold back the hunger pains. The blast had done enough to shake her back into her senses for the time being, so she stood next to Cage and watched the aching vampire. "He's just shuffling about aimlessly and calling for orders. I don't think he has any free will of his own."

Cage heard his own stomach turn. The two of them alone wouldn't stand a chance against him if there were a rematch. "Come on. Let's get out of here while he's distracted."

"You're not going anywhere," said Alucard calmly. The rage wasn't in his voice anymore, it was a mere statement of fact. Gone from him was all of the drive that made him such a fearsome warrior.

The former Hero-for-Hire was halted, unsure of what to do next, but She-Hulk was frustrated beyond belief. "What are you going to do? Kill us?" The silence between them hung like an axe. "Think about it. We're not the only zombies walking around out there. The rest have probably already taken the other continents. Chances are we're all that's left on this whole stinking planet."

"Maybe," said Alucard agreeably. He knew he could never reach the other nations in time to save them, regardless of his powers. Though he still had his pride. "Even if humankind is gone and I have no master to serve I still hate filth like you."

"Then go ahead," she chided as she turned her back. Luke Cage followed with a huff and they strolled away. "Go ahead and kill us if you can stand being alone forever."

Something strange happened then to Alucard which he wasn't sure he'd ever felt. The kill lay before him, but he hesitated. He didn't know what to do. The Jackal was drawn out from his coat and aimed at the jade giantess' head, but he didn't have the will to pull the trigger. Was this because Integra was not there to balance his morality? For the moment he felt the pangs of loneliness and the sadness that came with her loss. _What would you have of me, Master?_ He searched his soul and then came upon another thought: it occurred to him what eternity would be like were he forced to share it with zombies.

The explosion from the gun's barrel propelled a heavy bullet through her skull, splattering it in every direction. In the brief moment Luke Cage turned back to see the gun was his own face destroyed, annihilated by a 13 mm armour piercing, explosive round. Alucard strolled to their headless corpses and prodded them with his foot.

"What I have given you is a great gift," he said in retrospect. "To walk this world forever: that is a cruel fate. Be glad and accept that which I cannot take for myself."

As a gentle breeze blew and lifted warm flakes to the air Alucard began to shift once more. Perhaps he would search out his coffin and rest. At least that way he could pretend to be dead. If it were quiet he might even be fortunate enough to sleep until the end.

* * *

"Where am I?" The sound of his voice was lost in the endless chasm: there weren't even walls off of which they could echo. It was completely absent, even of the flow of air. The silence was maddening. How had he come to be there? "Somebody answer me! Right now!" 

He was once known as Captain America, later promoted to Colonel. He was a soldier, hero, President of the United States, Avenger and finally, monster. A disease of alien origin had taken over his body, driving him to insanity and giving him the insatiable hunger for human flesh. Once he had fought to protect life and then he hungered for it. What a cruel, ironic end it was.

The Colonel searched his surroundings, certain of it's familiarity. He had visited the void before. Was this where he came when he'd died? Remembering was difficult, it was a rushed process. His body hadn't yet fallen before he became a walking corpse. Perhaps his soul hadn't yet had the chance to escape and remained a prisoner while it was forced to watch the terrible things his flesh was compelled to do.

Frantically he searched his mind. How had he come to be in such a place? There was a battle in London. The Avengers faced the Hellsing Organisation and in the final moments of battle mankind dropped the bomb. Of course they did: it was their equaliser. What else he remembered was only in fragments. During the final battle he was so overcome by the nature of his curse.

In this place he felt calm and still. The hunger still lingered within him, but it was different now. It was both a part of him and separate: he had room to be with his thoughts, the space to reflect on all that he had done and weigh it against the need that had taken him.

Perhaps this place was Hell. Given what had happened it seemed likely. The faces of men and women, children and animals of all kinds flashed by his mind's eye, each one of them transfixed on him with expressions of panic, fear and the sting of betrayal. He was Colonel America. He was their hero and he'd _eaten them._

"Please," he begged the solitary vacuum. "I want someone to be there. Don't leave me alone in this place." As much as he yearned for company he felt in his heart of hearts that he didn't deserve it. If anyone appeared before them he would probably try and eat them too.

Though as fate would have it he was not alone. Something else lurked in the undarkness and it was all around him. It had countless eyes not so much seen as they were felt: assessing, estimating, judging. Alucard was all around him and was the jailer in this supernatural prison. He appeared before the Colonel both small like a flea and high as a mountain.

"Alucard," he gasped upon realisation. Colonel America stared up, eyes wide with sorrow and regret. Stripped of his power and parted from his disease there was nothing left of the monster in him. All of that time it was only a mask he'd adorned so that he could feed with a clear conscience and that only served to make him more pathetic.

"Were you a man or the hero you were proclaimed to be you would have rejected such a fate, even at the cost of your own life," the vampire began. "Instead you wore your curse and proclaimed yourself a monster..."

"I'm so sorry..."

"Silence!" His deep tone was thunderous, ominous and almost seemed to take shape in this abstract place. Most of it was confusing and all of it terrifying, reflecting Alucard's unpleasant mood. "Were you a monster you would not be sniveling before me as you do now! You are but a worm, Colonel, and I have crushed you."

The super-soldier was quiet, knowing exactly what he was told to be the truth. Humility had been forced down his neck with a spear and he was completely at Alucard's mercy. There was nothing left to be said, no ear to which he could possibly appeal. He had caused worlds of suffering and next to expressing his regret the least he could do was thank God it was over.

"You will not be alone," Alucard informed him, thought they were words not intended for comfort. Like him the vampire king had been stripped of purpose and meaning. All he had now was his hate and a target on whom he could inflict it. "You will bow to me as your lord and master, and while I walk the Earth so shall you, bound to servitude."

"How..." Colonel America was weak as his soul had been mined barren. Why did he have to carry on? "How long... will that be?"

Alucard smiled. He was glad that he could carry this knowledge with at least some satisfaction, knowing that it would make Colonel America suffer. "For as long as there is an Earth to walk."

* * *

**SHIELD Helicarrier  
Over Zurich, Switzlerland**

"Spider-Man. Alias: Parker, Peter. Status: confirmed deceased."

"Next."

"Daredevil. Alias: Murdock, Matthew. Status: confirmed deceased."

"Next." It was a long job cataloguing the dead. The zombies tirade left a bodycount in the billions. Finding the names of every single of them would be impossible. All Nick Fury could do was go through the SHIELD archives, marking which heroes had fallen. There were a lot of them and he didn't want to leave any loose ends.

"Iron Fist. Alias: Rand, Daniel," said the computer's synthesised female voice. "Status: confirmed deceased."

"Next." The old war veteran was wrought with guilt. It was finally over, but at a cost. That things should have gone so very wrong in the first place was almost more than he could bare. The heroes held so much power and were turned against the world so easily. They had to be stopped. Many of them he considered friends and now he had to bury them all.

"Power Man. Alias: Cage, Luke," it continued. "Status: unknown. Presumed deceased."

"Mark file: pending investigation. Raise priority flags. Mark files of affiliation: Avengers and affiliation: Excalibur," he ordered the machine coldly. The straight bourbon in his hand didn't seem to have the effect on him that he was hoping for. It only make things heavier, less stable, as if the bottom would of him would fall out from underneath at any second. "We dropped the bomb on them. That should have done the trick, but we can't be sure until we've seen the bodies." With a heavy sigh he collapsed into his chair. "Continue program."

"Ghost Rider. Alias: Blaze, Johnathan. Status: confirmed deceased."

The cycle of names went on. Black Bolt, Namor, Silverclaw, Cyclops: nearly every hero he'd ever heard of had either fallen victim or been slaughtered in the mad bloodlust. The villains weren't immune either. The Scorpion, Magneto, the Wizard, Doctor Doom, Mister Sinister: the list of corpses seemed to never end.

"Speedball. Alias: Baldwin, Robert. Status: unknown. Presumed deceased. Nova. Alias: Rider, Richard. Status: unknown. Presumed deceased."

Of course Fury was immediately suspicious and saw to the matter immediately, dispatching agents back to the United States to investigate further. Though since the outbreak there'd been no reports of any of the New Warriors or, for that matter, the Great Lakes Avengers having turned. In all likelihood they were probably consumed by more able heroes. Sickened at the thought Fury had another drink and continued to catalogue.

"Reed Richards, Susan Richards, Benjamin Grimm and Johnny Storm," he crudely spat as he came upon the entries. The Fantastic Four: they'd been turned on his very own helicarrier after the initial outbreak when Mr Fantastic went mad, praising the monsters as the next step in human evolution. Since their transformation none of them had been seen anywhere over the world. Knowing Reed the matter would require his full attention.

"Get this crate back to Manhattan and take me to the Baxter Building," he barked toward the nearest subordinate as he charged into the hall. "We've still got a war to fight, people!"

* * *

**Vladivostok, Russia**

Of the many locations scattered around the globe Russia was one of the very few nations that did not feel the sting of the zombie infestation. At short notice the former Soviet Union had prepared itself, sealing off it's borders to refugees lest they carry the zombie contagion, but at the same time keeping the citizens sealed within. A state of high emergency had risen and though word had come that the Avengers had fallen in London it would be quite some time before it was lowered.

On the grassy hilltops of Mount Kholodilnik a black portal appeared and through it stepped a number of 'heroes': Night Thrasher, Dinah Soar, Justice, Big Bertha, Firestar, Nova, Flatman, Namorita, Speedball clutching in his hand the decomposing head of Squirrel Girl and finally Doorman, a teleporter whose powers were greatly amplified since becoming the servant of Oblivion. Each of them held a piece of flesh wrapped in a shred of red and blue costume: a bite for the road.

"This was a great idea, Night Thrasher," said Nova as he chewed on the bloody body part before him. "Why didn't anybody else think of that? We eat Mr. Immortal and he keeps coming back!"

"We did, until you guys decided to come and help yourselves to a piece as well," mumbled Big Bertha with a full mouth, a splatter of red spraying over her rolls of fat.

"It kept us alive and sane, didn't it?" Night Thrasher pulled his mask from his face and took in the chilled air. He could almost smell the meat below. "We hid, let the Avengers take out the big guns after us and now we get the pickings."

Speedball stepped up to the edge of the mound and looked over the town. He held the head of Squirrel Girl in his arms and sighed. With one hand he raised it to his lips and kissed her hollow cheek with cold, dry, flaking lips. "Come on. What's say you and me go and paint the town red?"

"I get first dibs on the screaming rugrats," called Dinah Soar as she flapped her wings and took to the air. "Young meat tastes the best!"

Following her lead the New Warriors and the Great Lakes Avengers fell into line and charged to the waiting town, each of them drooling and hissing. There would be no safe place to run.

* * *

**THE END**

* * *

_AUTHOR'S NOTE:__ And there we have it, folks. Hellsing vs Marvel Zombies COMPLETED! Just a quick thank you to everyone who has reviewed me as I've been writing this and a quick hint to anyone who's yet to review me, "flattery will get you everywhere". Basically I'm a whore for feedback, even if it's just to tell me that you liked it. It means a lot. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed and continue reading my other works._

_Jack Midnight_**  
**


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